


Axes Crossed

by rhythmickorbit



Series: Tales of a Singular Continent [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Bonding, Demons, Family, Friends to Lovers, Futuristic Elements, M/M, Minor Violence, Monster Hunters, Multi, No Smut, Nordics, Romance, Slow Burn, Some Cursing, Supernatural Elements, Worldbuilding, a looong time ago, also hong kong is there in the background, based off of an RP, demon!iceland, demon!norway, i love the nordics so much, maybe mentioned briefly but thats it, not focused ENTIRELY on romance but i hope it's enjoyable anyway, not hunters from the show supernatural although its losely based off of that, nothing. explicit anyway?, some original characters in the background but nothing too too major, were in this for the long haul folks fuckin buckle IN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2019-11-04 18:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17902907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhythmickorbit/pseuds/rhythmickorbit
Summary: The passionate and friendly demon hunter Mikkel Densen arrives in the town of Norpoton with the ambition to seek fortune, glory, and above all, revenge for his past tragedies. The cold and aloof demon Lukas Bondevik lives an existence of anonymity and constant stress as he works to protect himself and his brother, Emil, from the constant threats to both demonkind and themselves. Two different stories, who should be at odds. They would be, if it weren't for the elaborate puzzle of smoke and mirrors they've built up to hide their true intentions. Such barriers, however, are meant to be torn down-- perhaps for the better.





	1. Arrival

"Looking for brave souls to defend the North. Huntercraft not required, but preferred. Come find your calling!”

 

            The flier clutched in Mikkel’s hand depicted the strong form of the famed Hunter Jax, the said individual standing triumphantly over the corpse of a fallen dragon. Mikkel’s nerves had gotten the better of him a good five hours into the train ride, and the Hunter’s chiseled features were crumpled and folded over several times. Mikkel tore his gaze away from the advertisement in his hand, and he tried to focus on the terrain speeding past the train at such a very fast rate. The ground was covered in a light dusting of snow, and the pine trees clustering the taiga seemed to reach out at the train with welcome arms. It was almost like home, the green and white tempting memories of soft arms and words, but not completely.

 

            Of course, the idea of home was relative, and not worth much to Mikkel now. He reminded himself of this as his gaze wandered back to the image of glory, and his blood almost sang with this promise of fortune and, most importantly, revenge.

 

            The train came to a stop, and Mikkel was met with the sight of a small, musty train station just outside. The conductor’s dry voice flooded the cabins through a loudspeaker, assuring the last few travelers that this was the end of the line. Mikkel stood up, his palms sweating with anticipation. He hauled his meager belongings from the compartment, and exited the train. No one else came with him, because, after all, who would come to such a tiny town on the cusp of winter?

 

            A Hunter. More specifically, Mikkel, it seemed. He swallowed, and made his way through the spacious train station, the one sanctioned in every town by the Alliance. He noted the overly clean floors, the lack of crowds, and the half-asleep security guards. Norpoton was not a tourist destination. However, Mikkel reminded himself as he scanned his ticket, he was not here for sightseeing, no matter how quaint this tiny place may have seemed. The next course of action was to find his lodgings for the next six weeks.

 

            He had been exchanging letters with another Hunter for weeks. Mikkel got the impression that this man, along with his partner, was extremely fearsome and effective in their craft. Mikkel’s heart sang with excitement at the thought of meeting more Hunters. They were few and far between, their kind, and to meet two of them was an enigma at best. Mikkel simply couldn’t wait to meet the individuals he had been promised shelter with. Perhaps, once this was over, they would let him stay permanently?

 

            As Mikkel found himself winding around the mazelike streets of this town, he suddenly realized that he had no actual idea where he was supposed to go. He remembered having the address somewhere with him, at _one point._ It was written on a crumpled receipt, as he could recall. Maybe it was in his pocket? His coat? Mikkel stopped on the sidewalk, and anxiety dug its ugly claws into his chest. Only empty gum wrappers and a single uncapped pen revealed themselves. He placed his bags onto the sidewalk, and rifled through every pocket that he could find. Nothing, except clothes, toiletries, and his axe. Then, it came to him. Mikkel realized that, perhaps, he had put the small slip of paper in his shoe, to keep from losing. With that, he started to untie the laces of his worn sneaker. The knot, however, proved to be an adversary unlike any demon Mikkel had faced before.

 

            Frustration burning behind his eyes, Mikkel propped his foot up on the brick wall next to the sidewalk as leverage, all the while picking at the stubborn, stupid knot. His hopes were dashed, and all visions of the future collapsed as momentarily, he fell into despair. The blond man gritted his teeth, and kicked the wall in frustration, and mumbled bitter curse words at the forsaken shoe, when—

 

            _Someone cleared his throat right behind him._ His frustration completely dissipated as Mikkel slowly turned around to face another individual. A violet-eyed man, expression blank except for one eyebrow aimed accusingly at Mikkel’s antics. To this, Mikkel let a sheepish grin slide onto his face, and he feigned innocence as he leaned on the wall. All through this, he self-consciously hid the criminal shoe, whose laces were now even more tangled than before, behind his leg. Mikkel hoped to whatever greater power might exist that this wouldn’t be another Hunter. A joyful introduction that would be.

 

            “Nice weather we’re having,” Mikkel said eloquently.

 

            “It’s almost winter,” the violet-eyed man replied. “What exactly are you doing?” the wind ruffled the stranger’s hair, held in place by a cross-shaped clip. With Mikkel’s luck today, he realized that he had been a fool in front of _an extremely attractive person._ Oh, joy of all joys.

 

            “There was… uh… this wall was too smooth, so I decided to put a dent in it.” Mikkel wondered if it would be too much for someone to just shoot him right now. The people in his hometown, Mikkel recalled, adored his stupid one-liners. The stranger’s expression, however, betrayed naught but the slightest amusement.

 

            “That makes perfect sense. I thought you were having a stroke,” the stranger deadpanned, his voice soaked through with sarcasm.

 

            “I mean, I guess I was. Mentally,” Mikkel calmed himself enough to sound like a rational human. “Look. It’s safe to assume that you’re a native in this town, right?”

 

            “As safe it is to assume that you’re not.” The stranger adjusted his scarf, unnecessarily so. “Listen. I’m running low on time. Please make this quick.”

 

            “Um, yeah, of course. Uh, I was wondering if you know…” Mikkel hesitated as he dredged the murky depths of his memory. “A Berwald Oxensternia? I’m on a, uh… a visit, but I lost the address.”

 

            A flicker of disbelief seemed to flicker through the stranger’s gaze, but otherwise he indicated no emotion of that kind. “The florist? His shop is that way.” Tone unchanging, he pointed vaguely to the north, and relief’s calming nectar flooded Mikkel’s senses.

 

            “Thank you, so much!” Mikkel exclaimed. “I’ll… I’ll make it up to you!” He called at the man’s retreating back. “I’m Mikkel! What’s your name?”

 

            “Lukas,” was the quiet answer before he got too far away for Mikkel to say anymore.

 

* * *

 

            Mikkel tried to be perfectly honest with himself, and it wasn’t always easy. And if he was being perfectly honest right now, he was not expecting the abode of two fearsome Hunters to be a quaint little plant shop with periwinkle trimming and succulents dotting the windowsills. Dozens of native fall flowers were displayed on tasteful displays right in front of the entrance, and after a moment Mikkel simply sighed and dragged himself and his three bags inside of the shop.

 

            A cheerful bell announced his presence, and Mikkel found himself in a sunny room, painted with the same periwinkle shade as outside, not to mention several happy shades of yellow and orange. From the front counter, he heard a “Just a minute!” before a shorter, slightly chubbier man emerged from the back room. His uniform was in a gray-blue, and he wore a nametag labeled “Tino”. He seemingly took in Mikkel’s disheveled appearance, before his eyes became more guarded and less welcoming.

 

            “What can I get for you today?” his tone was cautious, though still cheerful.

 

            “Uh, hey,” Mikkel made an attempt to wave, but the gesture became rather awkward due to both arms being burdened and then some. “I’m looking for… Berwald Oxensternia…? I’m the Hunter that’s supposed to stay for a few months?”

 

            The man’s countenance softened, and he seemed to relax a little bit. “Ah, you’re the opportunity hunter that we’ve been exchanging letters with?”

 

            _We…?_ Mikkel wondered briefly before answering, “That’s right! Here to defend the north and all that.” He gave a smile, which the employee returned easily.

 

            “I suppose you’ll want to get to know the area, meet Berwald and all that then. I know that it’s hard to be jerked into a new area like this, and frankly Berwald can be a bit terrifying at first—“ he cut himself off and shook his head. “What am I saying, I’ll just call him. Berwald, our new, ah, employee is here.”

 

From the back room emerged a man with the gaze of a hungry wolf. Or, more accurately, a wolf whose green eyes were glaring at you to get the hell away or so help him you’ll be a pile of dismembered meat in the snow.

 

            Or something like that. If wolves were human and wore glasses.

 

            Immediately, Mikkel got the sense of how a demon would feel just before Berwald inevitably eviscerate their bodies. The faintest idea, anyway.

 

            “Hello,” the man rumbled. “Yer the one from the letters.”

 

            “Yup! You said I could camp out here for a while? While I help ‘defend the North’ and all that?” Mikkel flashed his grin, more easily this time. He refused to let this man intimidate him so.

 

            “Mmm,” Berwald grunted in affirmation. He glanced at the employee, and then at the floor. “Upstairs.” He disappeared into the back of the shop once more.

 

            The employee smiled at Mikkel ruefully. “Sorry, he can be kind of shy. He’s really nice once you get to know him, though.” He waved Mikkel over behind the counter, and once through toward a staircase leading upwards.

 

“Shy? I’m pretty sure that man could crush my skull between his pinkies,” Mikkel mumbled in reply, once out of earshot of Berwald. The back of the shop smelled of sawdust and soil in equal measure, and the scent remained until halfway up the stairs.

 

            “I’m Tino, by the way,” the smaller man waited for Mikkel at the top of the stairs, where a small, translucent fox napped in a small ball. “That’s Hanatamago, my familiar. You can pet her if you ask nicely, and if she’s not asleep.” Tino led Mikkel further, to a door painted turquoise.

 

            “Your familiar… Wait, you’re a Hunter?” The idea gave Mikkel pause.

 

            Tino smirked slightly. “Well, you didn’t think I just helped with flowers, did you? Although we do expect you to help with that, too. I might not look it, but I am rather proficient in guncraft. Maybe I’m not a force to be reckoned with up close, but I can certainly provide plentiful cover.”

 

            “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what I assumed,” Mikkel rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Two stellar first impressions in one day.

 

Tino simply laughed at his expression. “Don’t worry about it, Mikkel,” he reassured the taller man. “Oh, and your room is in the attic: up the stairs behind those doors. It’s not the roomiest space ever, but it should be comfortable at the very least. Enough for you and your familiar, from what you said in your letters. At least, I hope it is. Anyway, I hope we all work together well. Berwald and I have been meaning to add another to our duo for a time, now.” Tino chuckled. “I’m rambling again, as I always do. I have to go back down and help out, but please make yourself at home!” with that, Tino disappeared back down the steps and into the shop, leaving Mikkel with the task of setting down roots for the first time in years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you've made it through my trainwreck of an exposition. Here is your applause. 
> 
> This is my first work on ao3, and my second fanfiction ever. Ironically, many years later, I am writing for the hetalia fandom once again. Despite that, I've fallen in love with this world that I've made and I hope to continue playing in it for the duration of this tale. 
> 
> If requested enough, I will likely make a world map and post some more detailed information on the world. However, everything will soon be explained, don't fear. 
> 
> Also DenNor does not get enough love. We stan a healthy relationship up in here.


	2. Cracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lukas returns home, and finds something disturbing. The next day, he gets sent to buy flowers for his manager.

To maintain even some semblance of anonymity was already hard in this world, what with how the government ran things and all, but it was even more difficult in a town as small as Norpoton: a place where one may even know the mailman on a first name basis. That was why Lukas always made an effort to fade into the background, to remain average and nondescript to anyone who would glance at him. He never, never let anyone put a name to his face unless absolutely necessary. However, that was exactly what Lukas had let happen that afternoon.

                  After the incident, Lukas cursed himself the whole day for letting even such a small crack appear in his carefully crafted walls. For telling that stranger his name. That bright-eyed stranger, whose blue irises rivaled the sky itself in their hue. The stranger who was kicking a brick wall like some sort of crazed mule. Lukas knew that he should have walked by without incident. He could have maintained the shield that protected him and his brother against the world, that he spent his whole life perfecting with purposeful design like filigree. But no. He apparently _had_ to let this newcomer—Mikkel—breach these finely crafted walls with but a singular word.

                  All day, Lukas had dwelt on this, through both of his part time jobs later in the afternoon. Both tasks became torture, opportunities for Lukas’ brain to remind him of how at any moment, someone could connect the dots and figure out who he and Emil _really_ were. One could never be too paranoid in this world, he would reflect, especially when the said person is a demon. One could not afford to be unique in this world, where magic was studied with the eye of a hawk stalking prey. One could never have a life that was too boring. Granted, Lukas didn’t necessarily mind his life of drudgery. Drudgery meant routine, the ability to keep putting bread on the table for him and Emil (and Emil’s stupid bird). Drudgery meant that they were safe, and they had been able to keep up the façade for years. Emil was even enrolled in the local Alliance-sponsored school; which Lukas had used their meager inheritance to pay for.

                  The bright blue eyes, wide like a puppy’s, wouldn’t leave Lukas’ mind. They taunted him, clear friendliness in place of the inevitable aggression that would come if Lukas were ever discovered. Through this haze of anxiety and confusion rushing through his mind, though, Lukas still made it to the tram headed toward his cul-de-sac, and reaching clarity once again he found himself at the front door of his little house. It was small, squat, and a dark gray from the years of grime and weather taking their toll. The lawn was trimmed, but choppily, as Lukas had never mastered the art of mowing a lawn and never really cared to. He rifled through the small collection of keys on his belt, and Lukas made his way inside of his home. He locked the door behind himself, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his chest. Lukas could breathe again.

                  “Emil,” he called. “I’m home.” The usual dry, muffled answer rang from Emil’s room, and subsequently Lukas kicked his worn sneakers off with relief. Almost immediately, he allowed the glamour disguising his true appearance to fall away, a scrap of loose thread.

                  Lukas’ feet elongated into cat-like paws, perfect for striding through deep snow. His nails strengthened and pointed, becoming jagged claws with which to grip ice. Sensitive fur sprouted on Lukas’ arms, legs, neck and chest, opening up sensation that had been drowned out only seconds before. Curved horns cradled longer, more delicate ears, and a long tail spiraled out from behind him. The burden of the glamour removed from his magic stores, Lukas felt the energy inside of him start to spark once more, as it should.  


                  Lukas shrugged off his jacket. His normally stoic expression softened ever so slightly as he took in the familiar, though a bit musty, scent of his home. He made a mental note to vacuum tomorrow, and padded his way to their small kitchen. The stresses of the day seemed to be a million miles away from here, in this small space that so graciously offered them sanctuary, the space that Lukas and Emil could truly call theirs. His tail twitched a little bit as he saw a dirty plate sitting on the table—most certainly Emil’s doing—but decided after brief consideration not to call his brother out on it. For now, Lukas was just glad to be home.

                  As meal plans raced through Lukas’ mind, he caught sight of the newspaper sitting idly on the table. He didn’t read it too often, but Emil often got assignments on the articles as the Alliance expected the majority of its students to be well-informed of the events that transpired all around the Continent. However, the headline today caught Lukas’ eye.

                  _Alliance Cracks Down on Northern Demon Population: Hunter Jax Offers Personal Assistance Against Infestation._

                  His sense of peace fled like a deer running from a gunshot. Lukas stared at the headline but for a moment before yanking open the paper, heart in his throat.

                  _After the discovery of a horde of demons up North, Director Jones calls for a state of emergency for our great Continent. A new campaign to get Hunters to migrate to the North has begun in full force, and we can surely expect to see more of the Alliance defending our great nation in the coming days._

                  There was the very real possibility that Lukas had given his name to a real, bona fide demon Hunter. In that case, the molehill had just turned out to be a mountain range. Lukas felt his breathing grow light and quick, and almost as quickly he made the attempt to calm himself down. There was no proof that… “Mikkel” _was_ an actual Hunter, just as there wasn’t any proof that Lukas was a demon. He had made sure of that. Lukas briefly shut his eyes tightly, and then opened them with a new determination. He had recently cracked down on Emil’s curfew, but that had to become more extreme at this point. With new Hunters in the mix, it was even more dangerous than it already had been to be a demon.

                  Lukas gritted his teeth and ripped the newspaper in two on a whim. Hopefully, Emil wouldn’t need it for his homework tonight.

 

* * *

 

                  The anxiety from the night before had kept Lukas awake way past 2:00 AM. He had woken up late, and had not had his coffee for the morning. It was way past his lunch break. Needless to say, Lukas had not been in a pleasant mood for a good part of the day.

                  So, when his manager asked Lukas to go by the _Älg Räv_ flower shop, Lukas simply stared at her for a moment incredulously.

                  “…And going to a flower shop during my shift makes sense, how?” he inquired, staring the woman down with an even gaze.

                  His manager rolled her eyes. “We need a bit of color in here—it’s almost winter, you know. Plus? I wouldn’t be opposed to you getting a coffee or two. Preferably two. Get me a coffee on your way back, okay?” she waved him out of the door in a shooing motion. “Go get some fresh air, and don’t forget the flowers.”

                  That was how Lukas ended up going to a flower shop while on the clock at a restaurant. He did admit that the cold air helped to chase away some residual fatigue, but he refused to be grateful to his manager. It was simply the principle of the matter.

                  He passed by, on his way there, the spot where he had met the stranger yesterday. Lukas’ eye twitched with forboding, and he forcibly shoved the memory of his mistake down. It wasn’t worth even turning over in his mind anymore. Lukas walked past and across the street, trying to pay the incident no more mind.

                  It wasn’t as though the obnoxious stranger would remember his name, anyway.

                  This was a point that the universe seemed determined to prove Lukas wrong on. As soon as he entered the brightly colored shop, he remembered where exactly he had pointed that stranger to. Sure enough, Lukas found himself standing almost directly behind Mikkel and one of the owners—Tino, Lukas recalled. Before he could make the decision to back out of this completely, as the manager probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a bouquet from here and one from a grocery store anyway, Tino noticed Lukas at the front of the store.

                  “Hello!” Tino called out cheerfully, unfortunately drawing Mikkel’s attention to Lukas as well. “We’ll be with you in just one moment!” It was then that Lukas noticed the shattered flower pot on the floor, dirt scattered about in piles, and a cluster of purple flowers laying on their sides, like children facing each other to whisper secrets in a lazy afternoon.

                  “Um,” Mikkel’s gaze landed on Lukas for but a moment before whipping back to the mess on the floor. “Uh, sorry, Tino. I thought I did a good job planting them, too.” Tino in turn simply handed Mikkel a broom and dustpan.

                  “The flowers are still alive,” Tino replied crisply. “And the pots are ever so easy to find. Don’t worry about it, Mikkel.” He smiled at Lukas apologetically. “He’s new. Now, what kind of flowers would you like today? We have lots of different, hardy varieties, and bouquets to match whatever message you are trying to send! For example—“

                  “Nothing in particular,” Lukas cut him off before it could go too far. “My manager apparently wants to spruce up the restaurant, and…” He trailed off as Tino interrupted him with bright eyes.

                  “Oh! Which restaurant? The little café down the street? The one where they serve sandwiches? Or, don’t tell me! The Juniper Glade?” Something in Lukas’ face must have shown some confirmation, because Tino then beamed. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere! Oh, I can make the perfect arrangement for you! Berwald and I, we love to go there…” Tino disappeared from behind the counter, leaving Lukas and Mikkel alone, with nothing but silence to serve as the icebreaker.  


                  “Hey,” Mikkel broke the silence, addressing Lukas with a lopsided grin.

                  Lukas chose not to say anything. _If I look as unapproachable as possible, perhaps he will go away._

                  “So… is this about the shoe thing? Because I can explain. I was trying to find this receipt, and I thought it was in my shoe… and that’s not a very good explanation at all, now that I say that out loud.” Mikkel was rubbing the back of his head awkwardly now, ruffling his already messy blond hair.

                  “It’s not about the shoe thing,” Lukas spoke up, with the same impulse that compelled him to tell Mikkel his name. The impulse that Lukas thought he had buried with the anxiety the night before.

                  “Oh, cool. ‘Cause normally, I’m a lot better at first impressions…” Mikkel gingerly picked up the cluster of flowers laying on the floor. With a better look, Lukas recognized them as snow-heather.

                  “That, I doubt.” Lukas, foolish, foolish Lukas, stepped toward the flowers to get a better look. Snow-heather had a magic-laced scent that he had never been able to resist. “I... I didn’t know that this place stocked snow-heathers.”

                  “Oh!” Mikkel glanced at the flowers with mild interest. “Is that what those are? They smell great!” He absent-mindedly fingered one of the violet, silver-edged petals. “Like… plums, or something. I’ve only been working here a day,” he added on hastily, glancing at Lukas sheepishly. “You… probably already guessed that, though? ‘Cause I’m breaking things. And Tino already mentioned it one. Um.”

                  Lukas' mouth twitched upward, seemingly of its own volition.  


                  Tino burst back through the door, a cluster of white and blue flowers wrapped with a silver ribbon in hand. “I have the perfect bouquet for your restaurant,” he announced to Lukas, handing over the bundle with a flourish. “That will be twelve currents,” he leaned on the counter with a smile. “A discount for you, because Berwald and I love your restaurant so much!”

                  “Ah, thank you,” Lukas replied evenly, though unsure what he would even have to do with their experience as he had only ever seen them there perhaps once or twice at the most. He placed the flowers on the counter, and dug through his coat pockets to find the appropriate amount. Pausing, Lukas found his eyes wandering to the neglected snow-heathers next to the bouquet. “I will take those, as well,” he said, with only the smallest moment for consideration.

                  Tino tilted his head. “Are you sure? Mikkel dropped them, so…”

                  “I want them in a pot. A non broken one,” Lukas said firmly. “How much?”

                  “W-well…” Tino thought it over. “Two more currents for those, then.” Lukas handed the money to Tino, who proceeded to fall over himself to get the snow-heathers planted again. Mikkel chuckled at the sight—a warm, hearty sound, that drove a spike of annoyance into Lukas’ chest.

                  “I can pay for them, Tino,” Mikkel volunteered, and Lukas couldn’t help but wonder what the blue-eyed buffoon was doing. Tino glanced at Mikkel quizzically, but simply nodded in response as he handed Lukas both the snow-heathers and his new change.

                  When Lukas arched a single, cynical eyebrow at Mikkel, the latter merely shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe the second impression is worth it?” his grin indicated hope.

                  Lukas let out a small, single snort. “Color me impressed,” he replied dryly, exiting the flower shop immediately after that, bouquet and pot cradled in his arms.  


                  He never stopped for coffee, instead returning to work with two bunches of flowers and, oddly, a mood that made him think of both sunshine and the bloody, midnight snow all at once.

                  _Maybe I won’t see him again,_ Lukas hoped.

                 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter has been rolled out. Sorry if this got a bit... ramble-y? I just want to establish Lukas' lifestyle and mentality pretty early on(bc thats important!!!), as well as get those good, good interactions in. God, I love making people talk to each other.
> 
> This is turning out to be such great fun! I'm glad I decided to do this lol, although the next chapter might not be so soon? Less slow chapters to come, I PROMISE. Also the spacing is better in this chapter.
> 
> Character names if you didn't realize:
> 
> Mikkel Densen: Denmark. Buff demon hunter with an axe.  
> Tino Väinämöinen: Finland. Flower shop owner with a gun.  
> Berwald Oxenstierna: Sweden. Carpenter, flower shop owner, demon hunter.  
> Lukas Bondevik: Norway. Demon with paws and paranoia. Has magic.  
> Emil Bondevik: Iceland. Demon who is Lukas' brother. Has magic. Is a teenager. (Same last name as norway bc i feel like it)  
> Hunter Jax: Famous, big buff hunter dude.  
> Director Jones: Leader man.  
> The Manager: Good lady who cares for her employees. Likes flowers.
> 
> Terminology:
> 
> Currents: The currency of the Continent. I'll calculate increments later.  
> Snow-heather: Pretty flowers that smell good.  
> Älg: moose in swedish  
> Räv: fox in swedish


	3. Avocet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikkel and his familiar go on their first Hunt through the local forest.

                  _The exact origin of the familiar is unknown, although scholars to this day continue to debate about the topic. Despite that, it is generally agreed upon that a Hunter’s familiar will always take the form that is most suited to the individual, regardless of whether the said individual may think otherwise. The familiar is one of the only symbols of magic and humankind coinciding peacefully, and even intimately. To possess a familiar is said to be as though having a friend that one has known his whole life._

                  -- Dedrik Beilschmidt, _Relationships Between Magic and Humankind: A Reflection_

* * *

 

            The first time that Mikkel summoned his familiar had been completely by mistake. It wasn't unusual for the first summoning to be, by any means, however.

            Mikkel often played with the other children in his neighborhood, although none of them considered him in particular a friend. He was often at the receiving end of ribbing and teasing—but didn’t necessarily mind. He was, by nature, one to take a joke.

            It was during one game, however, that an older boy had dressed up like a demon: mask, fake tail and all.

            Mikkel, being approximately six years old, ran away screaming at the sight. The older boy laughed and chased him, and with a grin threatened to rip out Mikkel’s heart. Perhaps it was only in jest, but nonetheless Mikkel had felt terror dig its ugly talons into his chest as he stumbled through the neighborhood’s backyards. A feeling of helplessness permeated his whole mind, seeming to manifest as a blinding white light.

            A translucent bird violently emerged from Mikkel’s body. Its beady eyes fixated on Mikkel’s tormenter, filled with rage as it hovered in the air for but a second. It attacked. The bird stabbed its beak at the child’s eyes, flapped its wings in his face. Mikkel could only watch as the bird, an avocet, scratched and clawed in fear, the intensity matching Mikkel’s to a T. The other child cried out in agony, screamed at Mikkel to make the bird cease its attack. With that, in newfound horror, Mikkel told the avocet to stop.

            And it listened, turning its gaze back to Mikkel and eagerly flying back to him.

            Mikkel’s father was horrified to hear what happened, to say the least. Almost immediately, the normally calm man flew into a panic, and with only a few possessions, the Densen family, now numbering three, moved into a lonely cabin in the woods. Mikkel didn’t mind. There was more space to play in the forest, among the pines and spruces. And besides, he had Nova to play with now. He would never be alone again.

 

* * *

 

           

            Mikkel roamed the unfamiliar woods, his blood singing and his pulse dancing with vigor. Nova sat faithfully perched on his shoulder, her faint glow adding to the otherwise meager light of the moon. The air stung Mikkel’s nose, but was delicious to his invigorated body. He clutched his axe in anticipation.

            Tino and Berwald had finally allowed Mikkel to go out. He had enjoyed working in the flower shop for the past three days, certainly—but his legs ached to run in pursuit, to hike through the woods, and Nova desperately wanted to fly. As if on cue with Mikkel's thoughts, Nova took to the skies from his shoulder in joy. Mikkel couldn’t blame her. He grinned up at her as she circled overhead in impatience.

            Of course, he _was_ told to be careful. When Mikkel had pleaded with his hosts to let him go out, they exchanged looks. An uncharacteristically uneasy cloud flashed across Berwald’s eyes, and Tino’s voice had quavered ever so slightly as he gave hesitant assent.

            “Okay,” Tino had sighed. “That _is_ what you’re here for, after all. But only attack if you must. If you find anything, let us know right away.”

            Mikkel, though appreciative of Tino’s concern, was filled with bright certainty of his abilities. His and Nova’s, anyway. They had slashed through packs of vicious monsters, clawing and ready to tear out the throats of the innocent. They had slain behemoths, outsmarted the most foxlike of demons.

            Well. Perhaps that was the slightest bit exaggerated. That he could admit, although grudgingly to those that he wanted to impress. Mikkel chuckled softly as he weaved through the cloistered trees, their arms grasping at one another in a halfhearted embrace. Nova darted between the branches with accuracy, gracefully gliding in and out of each limb; unusual for her species if she were not a familiar. She shadowed Mikkel from the air, her silhouette a ghost on the frost-covered ground. This was where Mikkel always knew he belonged—on the hunt, prowling through the woods like a predator with his familiar as a constant companion—

            He stopped dead. A soft breeze caressed his hair as he examined the light tracks in the bed of pine needles below. They were too slender to be an animal, and unlike a human’s feet seemed to have paw-like pads, along with jagged claws on the toe-tips. A demon was lurking in these woods, and was not being especially stealthy about it. Mikkel grinned, but called Nova back to him, as he couldn’t risk her glow being seen by the demon, and she obediently alighted on his shoulder. He began to follow the trail, taking no heed of Tino’s warning, which made an attempt to haunt the back of his mind. Despite the danger, Mikkel was enthralled by the idea of a fight tonight: a chance to prove his worth as a Hunter of the north.

            After a certain point, Mikkel noticed that the demon’s tracks, and a set of human footprints crossed paths and proceeded to intertwine in the snow. He grimaced, certain that the poor soul must have been enthralled, ready to meet their fate at the wrong end of a monster’s teeth. He trekked onward, hoping that if he couldn’t save that poor bastard, he could at least avenge their death by cleaving that monstrosity’s head in two. He’d done it before, and he certainly possessed no qualms about doing it again. Nova rustled her wings with apparent discomfort, as she often did whenever Mikkel’s thoughts turned to such topics.

            Voices. Mikkel quickly ducked behind a sturdy-looking pine, hoisting his axe in preparation to strike. It appeared that he was not too late, after all. Nova tightened her grip, ready to take flight if necessary. The conversation grew closer, and then...

           “...Maybe we could meet back here tomorrow?” the voice of what seemed to be a young man spoke up, bright with youthful hope that was oh so rare.

           “Well, yeah, if your brother doesn’t hang you by your tail,” another, but just as young snickered in reply.

           Mikkel impulsively peered from behind the tree, and had to stifle a surprised intake of breath. There were two teenagers in the woods. That in of itself wasn’t surprising, as adolescent lovers often took to the forest in order to escape the scrutiny of their family, their social circles, and the Alliance. It was the fact that they were standing so close, so calm, so affectionately— _and one of them was the demon_.

           What Mikkel couldn’t parse out, however, was why the demon hadn’t taken a bite out of the human boy yet. He knew that demons liked to play with their prey, certainly, using magic to disguise their hideous forms as human ones. However, this demon was explicitly out in the open... as itself. The human boy was either suicidal or completely ignorant. Mikkel refused to consider some kind of other alternative.

           “…just don’t get killed on your way back home, okay?” the human boy’s tone was light, teasing, even, and Mikkel snapped back to attention.

           “I won’t. G’night, Xiao,” the demon told the boy. They leaned toward one another, and Mikkel self-consciously hid back behind his tree. Nova worried her beak in a lock of his hair, matching Mikkel’s own burning anxiety and confusion through her impulse.

           After a few moments, Mikkel could hear the demon padding its way back through the snow toward him. The sound of slender paws picking their way through frozen pine needles crunched in the night, and a swishing, excited tail caused a half-dead branch to snap from its precarious position. Mikkel waited until an opportune time, waited with a tight grip on his axe handle, waited for blood and a fight, and…

           He did nothing. For some inexplicable reason, Mikkel simply allowed the creature to pass. Nova didn’t even pursue the thing, which was especially odd for her; she tended to charge at the slightest provocation toward Mikkel’s perceived safety. However, she calmly preened her wing with the relaxed nature of someone people-watching on a park bench.

           When the demon was out of sight, Mikkel simply followed his own trail back to where it started. Thoughts spun around in his mind, of what should have happened and what could have happened. Nova took flight again, her own nervous energy reflecting Mikkel’s frantic thoughts. Mikkel knew that he should have attacked—his own experience and training told him that much-- but the soft words between the demon and the boy haunted him more than a gory death ever could.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Summary: Mikkel sees two teenagers and loses his damn mind
> 
> And so ends the third chapter! I had a bit of trouble with this one. I knew that I wanted Mikkel to start questioning his beliefs at some point, so... I'm establishing his biases early, like I did with Lukas. ALSO I wanted to get familiar explanation out of the way, along with some sweet, sweet backstory crumbs. Sorry if there was a slight shift in tone for this chapter! There is more interaction between our star-crossed lovers coming soon, I promise. 
> 
> I'm always down for some good world-building, which is... mostly what these first chapters are. Also I need to stop analyzing my own dang story in these author's notes. Credit to u if you're still reading.
> 
> Character names if you didn't realize:
> 
> Mikkel Densen: Denmark. Buff demon hunter with an axe.  
> Nova: Glowy avocet familiar. Devoted to Mikkel with a furious passion.  
> Tino Väinämöinen: Finland. Flower shop owner with a gun.  
> Berwald Oxenstierna: Sweden. Carpenter, flower shop owner, demon hunter.  
> Dedrik Beilschmidt: Germania. Scholar. Not an important character in this story.  
> Shadowy demon boy: ...I'll bet you can't guess who this is. But he's a demon, that's for sure.  
> "Xiao": I think you can guess this one, if you are familiar with Hetalia. Which, unless you're one of my friends reading this because I forced them to... you are. He likes his demon bf.
> 
> Glossary:
> 
> Familiar: mysterious, animal-like creatures that a Hunter can summon to come to their aid. Each individual has their own unique familiar that corresponds with their own needs and personality.
> 
> Thanks to my friend Megan for putting up with my frantic texts about plot. I love u xxx


	4. Caffeine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lukas deals with an irresponsible brother and a coffee shop with one too many Mikkels in it.

                  When the first rays of sunshine poked their eager fingers through the curtains, Lukas awoke in a panic. For the sun to have risen so high… he had to have slept in at least an hour or so later than he was supposed to. Fur standing on end, he leapt out of bed and rushed to his dresser. He was uncaring about the mess made as he dug through each drawer, searching with frenzy for some kind of proper attire. Lukas knew that he was going to be late. He reflected on the consequences as he pulled a pair of pants over his tail, the constriction causing a sharp pain to shoot through his lower back. While the manager at the Juniper Glade was rather lenient on her employees, the woman in charge at the call center was not. Often, people were fired for tiny things, things lesser than being two hours late for work. Lukas hissed a curse between his teeth and stumbled down the stairs. He probably missed the tram, too. Two days in one week to have overslept was simply too much.

                  He froze at the entrance to the kitchen, where Emil stared at him from the table. The calendar right across the way informed Lukas that it was not only Saturday, but the one Saturday a month where Lukas had the day off of both of his jobs. Emil, seeing Lukas’ lashing tail, snorted in amusement.

                  “You forgot, didn’t you?” Emil took a bite of the oatmeal on his plate. Lukas’ ear flicked in disapproval at his choice of breakfast, but chose not to comment on it. He could say something later.

                  “Yes,” Lukas said simply, allowing his posture to relax. He fixed the buttons on his shirt and wandered over to the coffee maker. “So, what are _your_ plans for the day?” He pushed the button on the well-loved machine, and watched it shudder slightly as it gurgled and groaned with the effort of functioning. His joints ached from being forced into a glamour so often.

                  “Study, probably. Maybe hang out with friends,” Emil’s voice was even; cautious with the undertone of a child poking a bear. Lukas narrowed his eyes slightly and held his gaze on Emil sternly.

                  “And where are you and these friends of yours going?” Lukas observed Emil carefully—his tail was twitching uneasily, and Emil’s eyes darted to his breakfast quickly in an attempt to avoid Lukas’ hawk-like scrutiny. “You know that—“

                  “I know it’s dangerous,” Emil muttered, with the petulance common to seventeen year olds. At least, Lukas assumed that to be true. He had never spoken to another seventeen-year-old as extensively. “I’ll keep the glamour on, my mouth shut, the works.” Lukas’ mouth turned downward. He had never liked it when Emil spent so much time around people on the outside. Although he knew that it could be necessary, Emil was often much more reckless than Lukas was.

                  The coffee maker let forth a stream of hot liquid, with much effort. Lukas ignored it for the time being, watching Emil put his plate by the sink with a sharp gaze. “I asked you _where you are going,_ Emil.”

                  Emil glared at Lukas, rebellion briefly flashing through his face before seeming to think better of it. “The park,” was all he said as he retreated from the kitchen, tail lashing behind him. Lukas snorted and turned to his coffee mug, where a delicious cup of awakening was surely awaiting him.

                  Lukas stared at a cup full of plain, boiling water and inwardly cursed as he remembered how they ran out of coffee beans just last night. He _loathed_ going out to get coffee at a shop. Lukas, as a rule, didn’t enjoy being near people at the best of times. The coffee shop, on the way to work, was often stuffed with people trying to get some drink or another, and the staff never made what he wanted correctly. At the very least, though, Lukas would be able to pick something up for Emil—a muffin or a pastry of a similar nature. Lukas would probably be back into his brother’s good graces again by the time he got home.

 

* * *

 

 

                  The late autumn sun offered little respite against the chill in the air as it peeked through the cloud cover. The morning dew was no longer so delicate, but had stiffened into frozen chainmail on the grass and fallen leaves. It caught the early morning light, blinding Lukas’ periphery every so often. The smell of winter’s approach stung the inside of his throat as he walked, breath hesitating in the cold air in a warm cloud before dissipating into nothing. It was during this time of the year, more than any other that Lukas wished he could remove his glamour and be able to walk in the cold with a body actually built for the climate. His fingers, stiff and unprotected from the cold, were numb by the time he pulled the door to the warm coffee shop open.

                  The bitter smell of the café filled Lukas’ senses, and soothed the bite of the cold that remained within him. Warm brown walls were a sanctuary, a promise of warmth and caffeine in the cold void of a world outside. A feeling that he rarely felt in public—calm—dared to peek out of the deep hole that it was always chased into by constant anxiety and caution.

                  It was immediately chased back into the hole, and then stomped upon, as Lukas slammed into something. Boiling hot liquid splashed all over the front of his coat, and he staggered in place as the perpetrator stumbled as well and fell nearly on top of Lukas.

Lukas immediately shoved the person away, and had to consciously hold back a snarl forming instinctively in his throat. If he had claws, access to his magic, he would make the interruption to his morning pay dearly for this transgression. He looked down, and was met with the sight of Mikkel’s flushed cheeks. His anger simply ceased in a flash-freeze of other emotions.

“Holy shit,” Mikkel’s mouth was halfway open as he stared at the stains, and the puddle on the ground. “I’m so sorry, Lukas.”

It seemed that the universe _wanted_ Lukas’ life to be difficult. He pursed his lips together with frustration. “It seems that you are clumsy in more ways than one,” he said curtly. On an impulse, Lukas thrust one hand out at Mikkel; the other grasped the offer of assistance and managed to get back up on his feet. The grip lingered for only a half-second before Lukas yanked his hand away. He chose to pointedly ignore how warm the other’s calloused palm was.

Mikkel dug through his pocket for a second before thrusting a large wad of napkins at Lukas. His hand shook slightly, Lukas noted. A dangerous needle of satisfaction warmed a section of his chest at this gesture. He ignored that, too. Lukas did, however, accept this offering with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Watch where you’re going,” Lukas deadpanned as he wiped himself off, the effort wasted as the coffee had already soaked into his pants and coat. He gave up after a second, and Mikkel looked on.

“Well, I tried,” Mikkel was biting his lip, a sheepish half-smile crossing his face with the hesitation of an old man at a nightclub. “Guess third impressions aren’t my forte either?” He rubbed the inside of his wrist as though scratching an itch.

“Not untrue.” Lukas tossed the damp and slightly ripped napkins into a nearby trashcan.

                  Mikkel laughed—a deep, boisterous sound that wasn’t as wholehearted as it wanted to be. “Yeah, yeah. We aren’t off to the _best_ start, I suppose.”

                  A start. A beginning. That was the last thing that Lukas wanted right now. The word made him want to dig his claws in the floor and hold on to these last chances he had to preserve anonymity. Something inside of him, though, said that if he had _really_ wanted that, he would have walked away at the first encounter. That tiny recklessness, it seemed, had the voice of a giant.

                  Mikkel seemed to study Lukas’ expression for but a second before piping up again. “Hey, I can buy your coffee for you, if you’d like.” Mikkel’s smile transformed into a hopeful grin, adorned with a dimple on his left cheek.

                  “That would be acceptable.” Lukas convinced himself that it was only this one time. He wouldn’t need to see Mikkel again, after today. It was just a cup of coffee—and it wasn’t as though Lukas was stripping his glamour in public and parading before a crowd of Hunters. _Yes,_ Lukas thought, following Mikkel to the front counter. _Emil and I are still safe._ “I take my coffee black.”

                  Mikkel’s prominent eyebrows raised in surprise. “I didn’t figure you for that type of person, Lukas. But,” he added hastily, “We have only met twice. Well, thrice. And I’ve messed up all three times.” He laughed and gave the barista the order.

                  “Well, consider the coffee your repayment for this time.”

                  “I count on it.” Mikkel waved Lukas over to a set of chairs in the corner. An invitation. One easily refused, an easy excuse for Lukas not to stay. He could claim an emergency, a headache, that he had work.

                  Lukas sat down on the moss-colored chair and wondered at himself as he saw Mikkel’s eyes brighten—a breath of summer on this chilly day. Lukas didn’t often care for summer, for heat.

                  “Why do you like snow-heathers so much?” Mikkel asked. The question genuinely caught Lukas off guard—he was expecting something more like, _“Hey, are you a demon? I’m turning you in!”_ It was innocuous enough, though, that Lukas supposed that he could allow Mikkel to know that tidbit, at least.

                  “They smell nice. They’re important to my family.” He fingered the clip keeping his hair back. Important was an understatement.

                  “I guess that’s a good enough reason. I like the daisies that Tino grows,” Mikkel’s leg jittered up and down as he spoke. “They remind me of the house I grew up in, y’know? They’re really common in the Northeast.”

                  “I have never seen a daisy,” Lukas admitted. He could recall their descriptions in books—a yellow center with white petals ringed around it in worship. They were, however, the symbol of certain Hunter groups. It was with this that Lukas tried to thrust himself back to reality.

However, Lukas talked with him for another two hours, the longest that he had spoken with a singular person in years.

 

* * *

 

      

                  “Shit!” Mikkel cried out when he glanced at the clock. “I was only supposed to be here for fifteen minutes. Um—“ his mouth twisted to the side, his gaze turned back to Lukas. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta… Oh, man, Tino’s gonna be pissed.” He shoved the long-empty coffee mugs into the nearby trashcan. “Maybe I’ll see you later?” Half-turned toward the door, Mikkel grinned at Lukas again with reckless abandon. It sparked something like panic in Lukas’ chest.

                  Lukas stared at the frazzled other. “Why are you even bothering?”

                  Mikkel tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy. “Bothering with what?”

                  “Talking to me?”

                  “I dunno,” Mikkel shrugged in an exaggerated way, and walked backwards toward the coffee shop door. “I guess I figured that we could both use a friend.” He gave Lukas a little wave and one last smile before disappearing from view.

                  Lukas would have protested that he did not, of course, need a friend.

                  It was unfortunate that Mikkel left before Lukas could express it.

 

* * *

 

 

                  Emil’s ear twitched when he saw Lukas come through the front door. “I thought that you were getting coffee, not running a marathon,” he said with disbelief, pushing his essay on the Draconic Wars aside. Lukas never dilly-dallied when it came to errands.

                  Lukas, as he took his coat off, simply raised an eyebrow at Emil. “I thought _you_ were going to ‘go out’ with friends.”

                  Emil rolled his eyes. “It’s eleven o’clock in the morning. They’re not going to be at the park right now. We’re meeting at three.” He fiddled with one of his pens, the one covered in absentminded bite marks.

                  “Hm.” Lukas removed his glamour and sighed softly. Emil wondered at his brother’s constant use of the thing. “How’s the studying coming along?” Emil simply shrugged at that. Lukas’ back seemed even more stiff than usual, and his back claws, unsheathed, occasionally caught on the carpet as he walked.

                  “What _happened_ out there?”

                  Lukas met Emil’s gaze and stared. Emil stared back. It was a silent contest of will, of familial competition. Emil almost never won these. However, Lukas broke away first and exhaled with a puff.

                  “You needn’t worry, Emil. Everything’s fine.” Lukas turned away. Emil frowned, doubt creeping from the tips of his claws all the way to the end of his tail. Lukas’ fur was raised in agitation, a clear sign to the contrary.

                  “Did you meet someone?” Emil teased and sat up from the floor. Lukas didn’t have any friends, and never spoke to strangers unless he had to—that was immutable. He wouldn’t have even interacted with the barista willingly, much less talked with someone new or, horror of all horrors, attractive. Emil was often convinced that his brother had no soul at all.

                  However, Lukas’ pointed silence and curled tail told a completely different story. Emil’s eyes widened.

                  “Holy shit. Did my brother, Lukas Bondevik, create a social life for himself today?” Emil gasped. “The end of the world is nigh! Flowers are talking! Pigs are flying!” He couldn’t help but smirk slightly as Lukas whipped back around to face Emil.

                  “Watch your language.” Lukas bared his fangs, something that he never did. “No, I did not ‘meet’ anyone. I tolerated an overly talkative idiot for awhile, that’s all.”

                  “For two hours?” Emil snorted. “Lukas, you were at the coffee shop. Talking normally with one other person. I’ll bet they bought you coffee, too—“ he smirked slightly when he saw his brother’s eye twitch. “What’s their name?”

                  “You don’t need to know,” Lukas replied curtly. “Because it’s unimportant. And because you’ll never meet him. And because I need to focus on keeping us safe.” He turned and stalked back to the kitchen. Emil heard soft cursing from inside after a moment, presumably because Lukas had forgotten to buy coffee due to his impromptu ‘encounter’.

                  Emil’s tail curled as he turned back to his essay. Despite Lukas’ protestation, it was clear that something had happened—Lukas hadn’t spoken to Emil like a normal brother for a long time. He smiled slightly, removing the cap from his pen once again. He could smell a beginning in the air, a shift that had less to do with the seasons and more to do with life.

                  With that, Emil continued his essay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, friends. I stayed up p late to finish this, so apologies for the lackluster writing. Biiiig plotpoints coming soon, I assure you.
> 
> Also, Emil interactions!! Yaaaaay, we haven't had those yet. I like to imagine him being rly snarky with his older brother... who acts a lot like a mom. Hmmm.
> 
> Anyway. Dragons exist in this world, as do unicorns, which haven't been brought up yet. They're definitely not important though so don't worry your little heads about such things.
> 
> Character Names:  
> Mikkel Densen: Denmark. Buff demon hunter with an axe. Likes to talk to people.  
> Tino Väinämöinen: Finland. Flower shop owner with a gun.  
> Berwald Oxenstierna: Sweden. Carpenter, flower shop owner, demon hunter.  
> Lukas Bondevik: Norway. Demon with paws and paranoia. Has magic.  
> Emil Bondevik: Iceland. Demon who is Lukas' brother. Has magic. Is a teenager. Likes to make fun of his brother.


	5. Acquiescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikkel goes on a walk through the snow.

               _“Dad!” Mikkel squealed as he peered outside of the dirty window. “Dad, it snowed!”_

_Mikkel’s father slowly sat up from his bed, dark circles hanging under his eyes like a raccoon’s spots. He glanced at the clock with hunched shoulders._

_“Mik, do you know what time it is?” Mikkel’s father pushed his long, bedraggled hair away from his face. “There isn’t even that much snow. Please, go back to bed.” He began to lie down again, before an extremely disgruntled avocet charged into his torso like a missile._

_“Even Nova wants to go outside! Please, dad, please?” Mikkel gripped the tattered sheets, and was midway to pulling them off completely before his father relented._

_“Fine. You win,” Mikkel’s father sighed softly, and ruffled the eight year old’s hair. Despite himself, he had a small smile on his face among the stubble and worry lines. “Get your coat on. And,” he called out after the retreating backs of boy and bird. “Put on your boots, this time. I don’t want to risk you getting frostbite.”  
                       _

_Coat halfway on and unzipped, Mikkel dove into the tiny snowdrift directly outside of the door. Nova dove after him , and he laughed as he made himself a pair of wings in the snow._           

* * *

 

            It was now two weeks into Mikkel’s tenure, and winter had finally made her entrance. The bitter cold, her consort, followed right alongside, waltzing along the air and the frost. Even in the Northeast, Mikkel had never seen so much snowfall at once. But here in the North it came down steadily, an infinite supply of swans down drifting from the sky.

            Before his other two housemates had even awoken, before the sun had fully opened her eyes over the horizon, Mikkel summoned Nova and raced outside. He threw the door open and leaped into a snow drift, chunks of white flying into the air, onto the sidewalk. He grinned at Nova as she landed on top of a taller clump across from him. His breath lingered in the air, vapor hanging like an ethereal curtain in the frigid air.

            Mikkel stuck his tongue out at Nova, and threw a handful of snow at her. She squawked indignantly, flapping her wings in Mikkel’s face in retaliation. He snickered and simply lay in the snow, watching white pieces of the sky slowly float down before inevitably meeting their death upon kissing his face. He sighed contentedly.

            “Mikkel!” Tino stood in the open doorway, trying and failing to hold back an amused smile. “For Providence’s sake, put a coat on at the very least. And close the door! I’m not wasting money on heat. The last time that happened Berwald had to go all the way into the forest to chop down a tree himself because we ran out of rations, and…” Mikkel sat up, grinning as Tino shook his head in exasperation. “Just come in. You can be a kid again later, okay?” Tino shut the door behind himself for good measure.

            Mikkel, with the realization that his body was shivering, followed. Glancing back at Nova, he laughed when the bird made a gesture close to an eye-roll.

            “Don’t you judge me, too,” he told her as he offered up his forearm to her. Nova perched there, though reluctant to interact with one so ridiculous as he, and the two went inside.

* * *

 

            Mikkel gasped when he caught sight of the sea. A thick layer of ice had encased the body of water that Norpoton so depended on during the warmer seasons, imprisoning countless fishing boats in its grasp. He had been amazed upon seeing such a magnificent sea in the first place—to see it glittering so chiseled in the winter sun was breathtaking.

            Hardly anyone was outside today. Berwald had announced that the flower shop would be closed, and it seemed that every other business in the town possessed the same idea. Mikkel breathed in the cold air in ecstasy. The crunch of snow under his feet was a melody, bringing back memories of a small clearing among the spruces and pines of the Northeast. Nova’s mark on his arm twitched, and with some hesitation Mikkel released her.

            Unlike earlier, Nova burst into form with energy, taking to the winter sky with ease. Mikkel grinned and whistled at her as she soared. She warbled back.

            Mikkel strolled along the sidewalk, which eventually surrendered into cobblestone and finally the wood of a boardwalk. Every shop along the path was boarded up, hibernating in the white haze. Nova circled overhead as Mikkel stopped to peer at each sign, tugging impatiently at the fringes of his mind as she begged to move on. Mikkel smiled slightly, and walked on, the boardwalk hardly even visible, really, from the snow. He didn’t truly know where the path ended and the beach began.

            A figure stood in the cloudy distance, shivering in place as it stared at another sign. Mikkel picked his way through the drifts after it. The wind briefly picked up, and encouraged his red scarf to dance in the uneasy air.

            The lilac-colored coat, familiar from two, or maybe three, or perhaps more meetings stood out against the otherwise colorless landscape. Mikkel brightened up a little bit, his new mood a splash of sun on an otherwise perfect winter’s day. Though he didn’t mind being cold, the warmth in his chest was not by any means an unwelcome feeling.

            “Lukas!” he called out in greeting, and made the best attempt of a jog that he could through the snow until he was by the other’s side.

            Lukas raised one eyebrow, his cold skepticism a perfect camouflage among the snowdrifts and frozen sea. “Why are you out here in this weather?”

            “I could ask you the same thing! I never see you out and about this far from your job or the coffee shop,” Mikkel replied, hoping that his eagerness was not too evident in his speech. Nova drifted down and landed on Mikkel’s head.

            Lukas’ cheeks seemed to color from the comment, but his gaze snapped to the avocet perched above. “What is that?”

            “Oh! I guess I never showed you. This is Nova. She’s not a big fan of strangers,” Mikkel laughed. He affectionately ran one hand along Nova’s wing.

            “I assumed as much.” Lukas’ gaze never left Nova. His posture had stiffened. “Look. It’s nice talking to you, but—“ he turned to leave.

            “Wait!” Mikkel grabbed Lukas’ arm in panic, and quickly jerked his hand away after stopping him. “Wait, no, I’m sorry. Um, no, she doesn’t bite. Are you afraid of birds? I can put her away, I promise.”

            Lukas’ forehead crinkled—the action that marred his otherwise flawless face, but didn’t change its allure in the slightest. Nova warbled softly, her own sight fixated on Lukas.

            “Birds are fine,” Lukas said slowly, with the character of a mouse picking its way through a fox’s den. “I suppose.” He had inched away from Mikkel slowly, leaving tracks in the snow. The space between made Mikkel feel colder. He told Nova to take off.

            “Lukas, please stay,” Mikkel wheedled, twisting his mouth into a pleading frown. “It’s lonely walking, well, alone.” A little voice inside sneered about his absolute eloquence. He squished it under his heel, but the carapace was too simply too sturdy.

            They stood there for but a few moments, before Lukas relented. “Fine.”

            Lukas drifted a small distance behind Mikkel as they traveled along the boardwalk, and he had to wonder what he did wrong. _Am I an annoyance to him?_ Mikkel wondered. _I guess I do hardly know anything about him. But at the same time, I thought that he’d warmed up a bit._ The initial revelry that Mikkel had cherished in the snow was snuffed out by the thought.

            Until Mikkel realized how close they were to the sculptured perfection, the glittering plane of glass that was the sea. His heart jumped at an impulsive idea, and in turn followed, naturally, an impulsive course of action.

            Mikkel grabbed Lukas’ hand, slender and smooth and _cold._

Lukas stared at Mikkel, expression frozen.

            Mikkel tugged Lukas closer to the water. “Let’s go on it.”

            “Are you… what?” Lukas’ expression contorted into disbelief. “We could fall through, Mikkel.”

            “Nah, it’s frozen thick! C’mon, I’ve never skated on ice before.”

            “I’m pretty sure that you need specific… are you even listening to me?”

            Mikkel stepped up onto a dock, and then onto the ice, and he felt pure, unbridled joy spread across his face. He pushed off, balance unsteady but feeling absolutely _wonderful_ and he waved his arms to try to catch himself and oh Providence he was going to fall, and—

            Firm arms caught him, pushed him back upright.

            “I can’t believe you.” One incredulous eyebrow was raised, one hand was still on Mikkel’s shoulder.

            Mikkel laughed, and took Lukas' hands in his. Pale eyes rolled, but lips curled slightly, slightly upward as Mikkel pushed off of the ice again, and they slid away from land, and Mikkel felt his stomach drop as he almost fell again but everything settled as Lukas pulled him back upward. And Mikkel started to laugh. Nothing was funny, but everything was snow and ice and then there was Lukas, who he hardly knew but at the same time trusted enough to hold him up. And Lukas almost slid down, and Mikkel quickly pulled him up by the waist. And the upturn of lips had increased, and Lukas was _smiling_ and suddenly they were spinning around, spinning in a cyclone of snow and frozen lake and themselves. And suddenly Mikkel couldn’t compare anything to the tightness in his chest as they twirled in a dance against friction and inertia. And suddenly he was lost in the sound of wind and blood rushing in his ears and never, not even on a Hunt had he felt so alive. Nova danced through the sky overhead, soaring higher and higher and Mikkel could feel her ecstasy too.

            They stayed on the ice until vertigo had taken their brains and the cold had taken the feeling in their fingers. Even then, Mikkel wished that they could spin forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! I know that this chapter was really short (as they've been, I suppose) but it was one that I really wanted to write anyway. I suppose it's more of an establishing chapter more than anything, of the season and also Lukas' realization that the attractive guy he's been talking to for two weeks is a killer of his kind. You know, just normal relationship problems.
> 
> I'm trying to keep up a posting schedule-- all on Wednesdays, until life decides to twist that all around on me. Oh well. 
> 
> Also!! Thank you so much for the comments and kudos i've been getting. It means so much to me that people are seeing my story and actually liking it?? It gives me motivation and confidence to keep carrying on. I know the last two chapters haven't been as plot-heavy as they ought to be, but I promise that's coming. I mostly write them all down ahead of time, but the particularly drama-filled ones take much more planning and consideration. Hoo boy.
> 
> And ngl I do love to write these two boys interacting with each other in flirty ways. Lukas has given in to Mikkel's charm-- though not completely. They have a few trials to go before they sleep.


	6. Crumbling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new Hunter comes to town. Additionally, a vicious attack leaves Lukas horrified and jobless.

                  Jax knew that he was late. The Alliance had commanded him to travel to the North weeks before, but with every mile that he traveled came more demons, and more prey. More blood.

                  Jax had stopped caring.

                  He stepped off of the empty train, small bag in hand as he observed the tiny station with disdain. It wasn’t dirty, per se, but dusty. It was unused, nigh abandoned in comparison to the hubs in the Centre and North-East. His lip curled as he watched the security guard doze near the entrance to the station and pushed past him. Hunter Jax had no need to scan a ticket.

                  The snow was half-frozen to the sidewalk when he came out, trodden down by the occasional pedestrian or law-enforcer. Jax shivered as the wind blew right through his jacket, and wished not for the first time that day that he was back South, back home, with its ever-warm sands and fat fruits. That was put out of his mind, however, when he caught a scent through the curtain of snow.

                  Jax breathed deeply, now uncaring about the stinging in his throat and nasal cavity. The smell was warm, and new. It wasn’t the scent of the people that he was supposed to be watching—no, this was unusual. The Alliance _always_ gave him updates of new Hunters being posted in the North. To have new blood like this was… rare. And, more than that, it was a golden light through the bleak winter, a possibility of things to come.

                  Jax walked toward the scent, crossing the maze-like streets with aplomb as he searched. He could almost taste it now, and as he crested the hill overlooking the frozen sea, he stopped dead as he watched the two figures spinning on the ice. Overhead circled a translucent shape—a familiar, clearly—and Jax grinned in amusement as he caught the second, bitter smell of the demon below drifting on the wind.

                  _Glamours, now? You think that you’re so clever,_ Jax snorted, the action making steam billow out of his nose in the bitter air. The Hunter below didn’t even seem to care, and with Jax’s sharp eyes he could make out their hands linking as they stepped off of the ice.

                  It appeared that his mission would have to wait for a few weeks longer. His eyes fixated on the Hunter and the demon as they appeared to make their farewells. His gaze followed the movements of the Hunter, disinterested in the other quarry that would be so esy to pursue.

                  His mouth watered.

 

* * *

 

                  Lukas wondered at both his own idiocy and the universe’s bitterness. As soon as he saw that Familiar, that confirmation of his worst-case scenario, he should have run. He should have never spoken to Mikkel again, should have never spun with him on that treacherous, uneven ice. His chest had felt uneven, his breath hitching at the exhilaration of falling, the possibility of crashing through down, down into inescapable depths.

                  That idea in of itself should have terrified Lukas, and he should have left Mikkel with bruises on his behind and the blood of other demons on his hands. Never the blood of Lukas, and never the blood of Emil.

                  However, Mikkel didn’t have Lukas’ blood on his hands. He had something else entirely.

                  Friends were difficult to come by in such a hostile world. They were even more difficult to come by for demons—a rarity for such a people driven to the hidden fringes, the unseen places in cities and small towns. Now that he had such a treasure in his grasp, Lukas found, it was as difficult to let go of as a diamond slathered in honey, and just as dangerous as if that diamond were laced with neurotoxin.

                  Hypothetically speaking.

                  As they stepped off of the ice and back into the deep snow, Mikkel grinned in that effortless way while his bird chirped from above—equally effortless in her flight. And Lukas found the remnants of his walls effortless to step over as he gave Mikkel the slightest of smiles.

                  “Come back to the shop with me,” Mikkel urged as his avocet perched onto his shoulder. His eyes sparkled with an urgency that Lukas couldn’t name aloud.

                  Lukas was tempted to go back with him, to have this new companionship for a whole day. And yet, as he glanced at the translucent familiar, the memory of where he stood doused that thought like cold water on a fire. His magic reserve was running low, after all, and there were Hunters about.

                  “No, sorry,” Lukas shook his head, although inexplicably admitting it aloud made him sorry. Mikkel’s reddened, joyful face dimmed ever so slightly as he nodded in acceptance.

                  “Okay. Maybe… I’ll see you soon, though?” A warm grasp enclosed Lukas’ gloved hand, taking him aback. All Lukas could do was nod. He squeezed the fingers in his palm lightly. The warmth reminded him of family.

                  They lingered wordlessly. And then they let go, the gap between Hunter and demon filled by the unforgiving snow and wind.

                  Despite that, Lukas found that the way home was just a little bit warmer.

 

* * *

 

                  Magic consumes. It is hungry. If it is not fed, there are repercussions. Lukas knew that very well, having to deal with his own demanding illusion spells each day, with the exhaustion and anxiety that came with the constant drain of his inner magic stores.

                  However, sometimes Lukas was fairly certain that having a petulant brother was yet another side effect of his constant use. He rubbed his temples and sat against the wall.

                  “Emil,” he stated, not for the first time that day. “Magic is like a _muscle._ You must spend time actually training it if you don’t want it to atrophy.” Across from him, Emil scowled.

                  “Lukas, this whole thing is a waste of time. I can’t even _do_ ice spells, much less one of your illusion sigils. You might as well let me do my homework and forget about it.” Emil’s tail twitched back and forth on the floor, and Lukas’ eyes were drawn to the action immediately.

                  “You’re just impatient for something. It’s not homework,” Lukas huffed, mouth quirking to the side. “I’ve seen you procrastinate enough to know that.” He glanced down at the bowl of snow-heathers in front of him, their sweet scent just barely rising to his nostrils. Emil wrinkled his nose in response.

                  “Stop doing that.” He swept his tail out of view. “And I’m ‘impatient’ for you to leave this whole effort alone. I don’t _do_ magic.”

                  “It’s not a matter of wanting to.” Lukas crushed the petals under a stone, the scent of magic making the air hum. “It’s a matter of your heritage, what we’re made to do. Besides.” He met his brother’s gaze sternly. “As much as I want to, I won’t be able to uphold your glamour as well as mine forever.” He fingered the clip in his air absentmindedly as he spoke.

                  Emil simply snorted in response. Lukas then proceeded to ignore that response, and continued to pulverize the flowers under the stone until they resembled a paste-like substance. He dipped one finger into the mixture and drew a simple, circular rune on his bare forearm— _Expand._ As the purple touched his skin, it softly exuded an icy-blue light. Lukas glanced at Emil, and jerked his head toward the bowl.

                  Emil sighed heavily, and his ears drooped in exasperation. He copied Lukas’ actions—only, on _his_ skin, the crushed petals did not react. His lips pressed together tightly and he wiped his hand on the carpet. Lukas’ eyes narrowed in disapproval.

                  Emil’s purple gaze challenged Lukas’ patience to a great degree. He took a deep breath to expel his frustration—the rune’s glow too had become brighter along with his own temper. As Emil stood up to walk away, Lukas put his hand on the floor with finality.

                  Ice spread from Lukas’ hand rapidly, coating the floor layer by layer until becoming as steadfast as a wall. Emil’s tail lashed with irritation when he found that one paw was frozen to the now stiff carpet. He cast a tired expression at Lukas.

                  “Seriously? Just let me go upstairs,” he huffed, and attempted to claw at the ice encasing his ankle. Lukas shook his head in refusal.

                  “Your emotions weren’t in it. Try again,” he urged, and released his hold on the layer of ice. It retracted back into the rune on his arm as if it had never existed at all.

                  “Lukas,” Emil hissed. “My emotions _weren’t_ in it, and I doubt that they ever will be. Just leave me alone.” Claws unsheathed, Emil stalked up the stairs to his bedroom, and Lukas, not for the first time in his life, wondered what he had done wrong.

 

* * *

 

                  The next morning, Lukas found himself standing at the door to the call center in paralyzed horror. It was completely shut. There was no way in, and he had work in less than five minutes.

                  Or, rather, he was _supposed_ to. Even more petrifying was the sign taped to the door.

_Due to unexpected circumstances,_ the sign read. _Pixie Calling Centers will no longer be operational until further notice._

                  The weight of dread settled on top of Lukas’ chest. The money from that job provided for half of their income. Their food, rent, Emil’s academic materials… Ideas raced through Lukas’ head, all nonsensical and none helpful. His hands shook. His breath grew shallow. It didn’t matter at this point how much he had hated that job, his boss.

_They can’t do this,_ he tried to tell himself, biting down on his lip to control the panicked surge of magic within him. _They can’t. Not without warning._

                  Lukas hesitated, hoping dearly that it would turn out to be a joke. He slowly, hesitantly wandered away after a few seconds.

                  He knew that he would get compensation through the mail in about a week, as Emil went to one of the Alliance-sponsored schools, but until then, the future seemed like a bleak, foggy mess. He kicked at the gray-tinted slush on the sidewalk, melted partway by salt and footsteps alike. The knowledge that Lukas wasn’t alone in this was but a minute, bitter comfort within the blizzard in his brain.

                  Lukas grit his teeth. Unwillingly, he had even more time to himself, now. More time to _waste_ when he could be providing for Emil. Nothing to do, but everything to worry over.

                  It was then he saw the newspaper stand. Like every morning, he was in too much of a hurry to even glance at it. But now that he peered just a little bit closer, Lukas could see the familiar, bitter face of his boss glaring at him from a corner. _Local Call Center Manager Murdered,_ read the small headline, under an article about the newest exploits of Hunter Jax.

                  Lukas snatched the paper off of the stand, earning a glare from the seller. Without looking, Lukas shoved a handful of currents at her, and walked off as he read the article.

                  The words froze him to his very marrow.

_Last night, citizen Judith Aalberg was slain in front of her home on West-Centre Avenue. Her wounds, which appeared to be animalistic in nature, were confirmed by a visiting Hunter to be, in fact, demonic in origin. “They can infiltrate the very midst of our society…” explained Hunter Jax. It appears that the demonic crisis up North has not only been neglected in its handling, but has in fact worsened. Citizens are advised to take extra precautions against possible magical threats.  
_

                  Discomfort crawled underneath of Lukas' skin, a thousand tiny sensations of horror. Despite how much he had hated Judith, Lukas wouldn’t wish this fate upon anyone.

                  Furthermore, though, if what the article implied was true, the demon-killer Jax was in town—and something else completely willing to devour human flesh.

                  Lukas couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he threw the newspaper into a trashcan on his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Tis I! Thank you so much for reading, I appreciate each and every comment and kudos that I get! The community here has been so so encouraging and sweet, and I'll start doing shorter writing prompts as exercises as well. I'm really excited to finish the little things I have cooking up in the cauldron over here ;0
> 
> Oh and a new character is introduced! This'll be fun. Plus, I introduced a bit of the magic system. I hope that it didn't seem too out of place-- it'll be extremely important later. I promise pfft.
> 
> Hunters are mysterious figures that aren't entirely understood even among their own community.
> 
> You get brownie points if you can guess the books where I got my inspiration from,,, c:
> 
> Character Names (if you weren't aware):  
> Mikkel Densen: Denmark. Buff demon hunter with an axe.  
> Nova: Glowy avocet familiar. Devoted to Mikkel with a furious passion.  
> Lukas Bondevik: Norway. Demon with paws and paranoia. Has magic.  
> Emil Bondevik: Iceland. Demon who is Lukas' brother. Has magic. Is a teenager.   
> Hunter Jax: Famous, big buff hunter dude. No one knows that much about him. 
> 
> Glossary:  
> Currents: The second-smallest denomination of the Continent's currency. The most commonly used.  
> Snow-heathers: Flowers that Lukas is partial to. A good conductor for magical energy. Demon catnip.
> 
> Thanks to Yuki for being so nice and introducing me to the HWD!!


	7. Admiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lukas gets offered a job. Mikkel meets the celebrity of his dreams. Tino worries for the future.

Shortly after Mikkel summoned Nova for the first time, he had become enamored with Hunters—the courageous individuals who risked life and limb to protect humanity from the demonic threats at its borders.

More so than brave, they were just like Mikkel. These people too had ethereal companions to stay with them through trial and tribulation. They, too, must have experienced the unique bond between familiar and individual, and would be able to understand Mikkel’s own plight.

That lonesome cabin in the woods had next to no connection to the outside world—the exception being the one day a month, where the thirty newspapers chronicling that time period would arrive in the mail.

Before his father inevitably burned them, Mikkel would meticulously pick through each and every newspaper, searching specifically for the articles and pictures of the heroes that he so cherished. This task was accomplished with a focus that Mikkel had for little else, much to his parent’s inevitable chagrin.

Once the scissors were taken from Mikkel, he used a knife. Once those were locked away, Mikkel carefully tore each photo out by the edges, ripped away each article with a delicacy akin to his familiar’s beak. He pasted these likenesses on the walls of his bedroom with flour and water, and memorized each one. Every morning, he woke up to the determined faces of what he hoped his future would be.

More than anything, Mikkel wanted to do what they did. He wanted to travel the Continent, to defend humanity from the world’s darkest predators. He always would play at such things around the house—and, if not that, the small clearing around it. He slashed at imaginary demons with sticks, stabbed and slaughtered the monsters coming for him and his father. Nova, ever the loyal bird, would play along, swooping and diving in attack.

            Even these games made Mikkel’s father upset. He would purse his lips in disapproval if Mikkel begged for a real person to chase. He shook his head whenever Mikkel pasted a new Hunter onto the wall. His body grew all the more tense when Mikkel would boast of being the best Hunter on the Continent someday.

            Mikkel never understood why.

           

* * *

 

 

            Mikkel wandered the streets in pure, dreamy bliss. The snow had been muddied and pressed flush to the sidewalk by dozens of busy feet, but Mikkel could almost taste the promise of more on the horizon. Fat, white clouds covered the sky, almost bursting at their seams with more fluffy wonder.

            He imagined his hands in Lukas’ as he found himself walking by the coffee shop, warm and inviting. Although he hesitated to leave the pleasant chill in the air, the sigil on his wrist twitched, matching his own urge to see if Lukas was inside.

            Familiars, Mikkel found, were perfect judges of character. Nova was even more sensitive to others’ intentions than the average familiar, to which Mikkel was infinitely grateful. Knowing now that Lukas passed Nova’s judgment sent a small thrill through him: it meant that he had nothing to fear from the other man, whom Mikkel could admit was very pleasant to be around.

            Warm air blasted uncomfortably into Mikkel’s face as he stepped inside of the shop. There were a few people sitting at tables, one or two in Alliance school uniforms typing away at their mobile computers. Mikkel scanned the room, searching for the pale complexion that he had grown so fond of.

            Mikkel perked up when he saw Lukas sitting in the corner where they had first spoken. He blustered his way over, and blurted out a greeting.

            “Hey, Lukas!” Mikkel plopped down on the green armchair right of Lukas’ gray one. Lukas’ gaze was flat, betraying no emotion, as per usual. He tilted his head away from his coffee to look at Mikkel.

            “I’m not in the mood.” The sharpness of Lukas’ voice took Mikkel aback. He frowned, and saw his friend’s slumped posture, his exhausted eyes.

            “Oh, Providence, are you okay?” Mikkel shifted in the chair to look Lukas straight in the eyes. Lukas huffed and averted his gaze.

            “Mikkel,” his tone was a warning. Something in Mikkel wouldn’t abide by it.

            “Something’s wrong,” Mikkel’s voice evened out, goaded on by Nova from inside of her sigil. “It helps to talk about it. Even if it’s only a little bit.” He clasped his hands together, refraining from patting Lukas’ shoulder in comfort or taking those chilled hands in his. He didn’t want to irritate Lukas’ obvious malaise.

            “I…” Lukas hesitated. He hesitated for several seconds. Mikkel waited patiently, playing with the cuff of his jacket absentmindedly. “I am… Out of a job. A well-paying job.”

            Mikkel’s eyes widened, and worry for his friend churned his stomach back and forth. “I thought you were a waiter?” He ventured. Lukas shook his head.

            “I had two jobs. Now I only have one, and I’m attempting to drown my sorrows in caffeine.”

            Mikkel frowned in thought, considering this. He had never had to worry about money—at least, not in the way that many Alliance citizens did. He had plenty of money left over from his father, and furthermore earned some bounty for every demon he killed, although not nearly as much as he would have had Mikkel been a licensed Hunter.

            An idea came to mind, and Mikkel realized that his already enjoyable job could become even more so. “Lukas, you should ask Berwald and Tino to work at their place!”

            Lukas’ eyebrow raised in skepticism. “I doubt that they need four people to work a flower shop. It’s winter, you know.” The friendly, biting tone had returned to Lukas’ voice. Satisfaction bloomed in Mikkel’s chest.

            “No, no. It’s not just a flower shop. Berwald makes furniture and stuff sometimes for people around town,” Mikkel explained.

            “I already know that. I’ve lived here my whole life,” Lukas said dryly. “There’s a table at the Juniper Glade made by him.”

            “He could probably use someone to fetch materials and stuff. Berwald hates talking to people, so maybe you could be our errand boy,” Mikkel let a grin spread across his face.

            Lukas seemed to perk up in interest, but rolled his eyes. “You just want me to do this so _you_ don’t have to do it.”

            Mikkel snickered. “Guilty as charged, my friend.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Mikkel stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Although he and Lukas had somewhere to be, now, he grabbed the latter’s shoulder and hissed, “Lukas, _look!_ ”

            All but four feet away was a face that Mikkel had wanted to meet for a long time-- one of the most famous Hunters in the Continent. Mikkel wanted to scream, but that would be a little immature considering that he was now a fully-fledged Hunter in front of not one but two people that he wanted to impress.

He settled for a strangled scream in the back of his throat. “Lukas, look, do you know who that is?” Lukas’ mouth was pressed into a straight line in of but a second once he caught sight of the man ahead.

“Mikkel, I think that he’s busy. And that we ought to leave him alone. Right now. Can we go?” He tugged at Mikkel’s coat as Mikkel ogled the celebrity whose countenance he used to paste on his wall.

Hunter Jax—slayer of dragons, conqueror of the unifolk, killer of demons.

“Come on, we have to talk to him,” Mikkel urged Lukas, his heart beating like one thousand drums. “How often in a lifetime do you get a chance like this?”

“Mikkel. Please, can we…” Lukas trailed off as the imposing figure noticed them. The dark haired man smiled pleasantly at Mikkel, sending his stomach into thousands upon thousands of flip-flops.

Nova’s sigil twitched. Mikkel was certain that she was excited as well.

“H-Hello! Hunter Jax?” Mikkel blurted out, approaching the man with quivering knees. “Um, hi, I’m Mikkel! Mikkel Densen?”

Jax was even more intimidating in real life—the scars on his face told tales of conflict, but certainly did not take away from the ease of which one could look at him. His dark hair framed his face in the same way as it did in photos, and his eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked at Mikkel.

“Well, well. I didn’t expect to find fans all the way out here!” Jax chuckled softly, and Mikkel felt his heart melt into a puddle. “I unfortunately don’t do autographs, kid.”

Mikkel shook his head. “No, no, I’m a Hunter too! See?” He pulled up his sleeve to show Nova’s sigil. It twinged with something akin to pain, although Mikkel wasn’t keen to pay attention to that at this moment. Jax leaned forward to inspect it, and his eyebrows raised slightly.

“Well, well. That isn’t a sight that you normally see,” Jax murmured, and his mouth turned upward. “So, you hunt too? And your friend?” Jax’s gaze swiveled toward Lukas, who was a good two feet behind Mikkel. Mikkel grinned happily and pushed his sleeve back up.

“Oh, no, he doesn’t hunt. That’s Lukas, though, my friend,” Mikkel chirped, awestruck at how similarly Jax was in real life as he was in the articles. Some Hunters were rather prickly in real life.

“What an… interesting individual he seems to be.” Jax offered his hand to shake.

“Thank you, sir, but… we… have an engagement. Soon. Right now, in fact. We have to go,” Lukas nodded toward their previous direction, completely ignoring the polite gesture. “If you’ll excuse us, sir.” He grabbed Mikkel’s arm, and Mikkel shot Lukas a “ _what are you, crazy?”_ sort of look.

“I would be happy to chat with you on your way there,” Jax said smoothly, and met Mikkel’s gaze with a smile. Mikkel felt himself blush under the scrutiny. Never did Mikkel ever think that this day would come.

“We’d love that,” Mikkel blurted and ducked his head self consciously. Lukas tensed beside him—he was probably just uncomfortable around someone so well known. This was understandable, especially considering Lukas' position-- new people almost never came to the North, and for such a famous Hunter to just show up was almost unheard of.

“Tell me, Mikkel. What sorts of tales have you to share with an age-old Hunter like myself?” Jax’s left cheek dimpled.

Mikkel enthusiastically recounted a rather muddied mass of each of his explorations all the way to the shop. Lukas never walked beside them, and instead trailed behind.

 

* * *

 

            Tino clenched the paper with an iron grip, the expensive paper finally giving in to Tino’s stressed fist. Fear rapidly developed in the core of his chest. The temptation to simply crumple up the notice and return to his arrangements was ripe—just out of reach. The temptation was so prominent that Tino felt regretful as he pushed the thought of such an action away. He placed the Alliance-sealed notice on the counter in front of him and stared at it. Such a wretched thing did not deserve to have its wrinkles smoothed away.

            _This is to inform you that your post has been placed under premature inspection, due to current as well as past unsatisfactory performance. A certified Hunter will be observing your work up close for the next two to three weeks._

This was certainly not the first inspection that Tino and Berwald had weathered, nor would it be the last. As certified Hunters, the Alliance had a right to inspect their performance, and Tino could certainly respect that.

            He _could not_ respect the quotas. The wretched quotas. These never changed, no matter where one Hunted through the Continent. The North, in particular, had never experienced an excessive amount of demon attacks. And yet, even knowing this, the Alliance demanded more corpses as proof. Always the corpses, always the blood. It never mattered whose gore it was. Even “mistaken kills” were better than falling short of the quotas.

The Alliance treasured impulsive Hunters like Mikkel, Tino knew, but not the empathy that such a person could possess. Not the empathy that he and Berwald possessed, especially.

            Tino took a long, shuddering breath as he leaned on the counter in thought. These inspections were only supposed to come around every second year.

            Their last one was three months ago.

            Tino wondered briefly if it was because he and Berwald had taken in a freelancing Hunter. Those were not uncommon by any means among their community, but the Alliance certainly took an interest in people who could do their work without being confined to a post.

            His stomach twisted, and Hana’s sigil throbbed from his wrist. He had needed to put her away, or else the little fox would have actually destroyed something.

            He made a promise to Hana that nothing would happen to her. Not if he could help it.

            Tino and Berwald both wouldn’t let anything happen. Not like last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friendsss! Here we are, once again, with convoluted plot and dozens of variables in the story! Our boys get to talk though so that's pretty neat.
> 
> (This is really fun though. And thanks again for all of the comments and kudos!! Everyone is just so kind.)
> 
> We're slowly building up to the action! Just chug-chugging along with it all... 
> 
> I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on Jax. I wrote him to be a very specific way, so hopefully that comes across well enough.
> 
> Character Names (As per usual):
> 
> Mikkel Densen: Denmark. Buff demon hunter with an axe.  
> Nova: Glowy avocet familiar. Devoted to Mikkel with a furious passion.  
> Tino Väinämöinen: Finland. Flower shop owner with a gun.  
> Hanatamago: Glowy fox familiar. A sweetheart. Hates everything that Tino hates.  
> Berwald Oxenstierna: Sweden. Carpenter, flower shop owner, demon hunter.  
> Lukas Bondevik: Norway. Demon with paws and paranoia. Has magic.  
> Hunter Jax: Famous, big buff hunter dude. No one knows that much about him.


	8. Composed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikkel takes Jax and Lukas to Älg Räv. Lukas is given a brief job interview. Emil gets angry about some rule changes.

            “Remember what I told you,” their mother softly reminded, her glamour already draping her normal, bestial form in human guise. Lukas nodded gravely, memories of this conversation iterating dozens of times behind his eyes. Behind him, Emil chattered as he played with his toys. A pile of blocks was beginning to take the form of an organized tower, and Lukas was sharply aware that he would be corralled into assisting in building the structure later.

            “Don’t answer the door. Don’t leave the house. Don’t talk to strangers,” Lukas recited the list of rules in one breath. His mother’s gaze was soft, however strange without her slit pupils and sharp teeth. She nodded and put her hand softly on Lukas’ shoulder—her fingers were light and barren without her claws.

            “Protect Emil, my darling,” their mother murmured, nuzzling Lukas’ forehead. The little demon wrinkled his nose in response, and he bared his teeth playfully. Emil ran over to hug their mom, his tail lashing with pure joy as he burrowed his face into her neck.

            “Mommy, stay home!” Emil begged. “I’m gonna build a tower today. Lukas said he’d help me!” Lukas bit down a hiss at the fib. Emil was such a liar!

            She laughed and kissed the top of Emil’s head. “I’ll be home later today, dearest. Don’t you fret.” Their mother released her embrace and stood up. Lukas’ gaze was fixed on her retreating back as she headed out of the house. Only once did she look back, unyielding concern in her eyes.

            Lukas wouldn’t understand the finality of the door’s lock turning until many years later.

 

* * *

 

 

            Mikkel was easy to trust—he had a wide-eyed, bright blue openness about him. No, he was not innocent, per se— even Lukas could tell, from the few lines worn in the planes of Mikkel’s face to the under-eye bags marring his otherwise flawless complexion. Despite this, even against his better judgment, Lukas trusted him.

            Jax, however, was an unknown variable. He was a locked tome, a forged painting with a thick coat of charm laid on top. As Lukas lagged behind on their walk to _Älg Räv,_ he couldn’t help but feel a prickling of unease on the back of his neck. He remained silent as Mikkel chattered away to Jax’s steadily amused face, and the almost too pale hand on Mikkel’s back would have made Lukas’ fur bristle if he hadn’t had his glamour on.

            The smell emanating from Jax was too unnerving to ignore—it was heavily laced with magic. It had to be intentional, the scent was so heavy—although Lukas couldn’t discern why, even as he recounted his constant review of the few magical tomes that he possessed.

            Almost as if Lukas had called his name directly, Jax’s gaze flicked toward his direction. The Hunter’s expression was amicable enough, but Lukas noticed immediately how Jax’s fingers flexed from where they rested on Mikkel’s back.

            Lukas shoved his hands into his pockets, desperately shoving down the urge to run away as fast as his legs would carry him. The bitter wind began to crescendo as the three approached the friendly colored door of the flower shop—Jax held the door open for Lukas as they walked in. Lukas could have sworn that he felt the Hunter’s breath on the back of his neck, despite it being very covered with his very thick, very itchy, very woolen scarf. Lukas pulled it more tightly around his neck.

            Mikkel practically flounced into the turquoise and yellow room, and shouted for Tino—despite the fact that he was right in front of the subject in question. Tino did not seem at all perturbed by his larger, very loud employee. In fact, Tino simply walked past with his armful of terracotta pots as if there _wasn’t_ a rambunctious man yelling in the front of his store.

            “What is it, Mikkel?” Tino responded mildly, and began placing the pots gently on a display painted lilac. Lukas noted that each pot had a unique, intricate design—several hours of work for each one, at least.

            “Guess what, guess what?” Mikkel was right next to his employer in a flash. “Two good things—I have the perfect person to help Berwald and also _look who’s here!”_

            Tino’s gaze followed Mikkel’s flailing arm, and immediately his previously peaceful demeanor was shattered. His shoulders squared, and the remaining pots in his hands came crashing to the floor. His violet gaze betrayed nothing, but Lukas could literally smell the fear that was likely surging in Tino’s gut. Jax stood in the entrance, haloed by the winter light streaming in through the windows.

            “Goodness, I had _no idea_ that you were acquainted!” Jax’s voice was pleasant, and smooth as the sea. “What a surprise.”

            “In… indeed,” Tino’s voice quavered for a single syllable, but he stood up. “Let me go get a broom,” he said, and promptly left the room.

            Lukas glanced at Jax, and with a jolt realized that the Hunter’s gaze was fixed on _him_. Jax’s teeth stood in a perfect row, and gleamed blindingly white, revealed by the fleshy curtains of Jax's lips in some semblance of a smile. Lukas’ stomach twisted at the unreadable look in Jax’s eyes.

            “Tino never told me that he _knew_ you!” Mikkel cried out, staring at Jax imploringly. He seemed to get a hold of himself quickly and cleared his throat. “What I meant was—I didn’t expect you to have ties in such a small city, especially in the North.”

            Jax’s head turned back toward Mikkel, which only lessened the feeling in Lukas’ gut slightly. His veins throbbed with the urge to escape, and his heart could not agree more. 

            However, the image of the notice on the call center haunted the back of his mind, as did the bills for this month. If Lukas could only suffer this, if he could just get that interview… It wouldn’t solve the money issue, but would ease Lukas’ fears immensely. Lukas slowly inched away from Jax, but the pricking on the surface of Lukas’ skin wouldn’t lessen no matter how far he went.

            “Tino and I have spoken once or twice,” Jax said. His hands were folded in front of him, the cuffs of his sleeves hanging low over both wrists.

            Lukas suddenly found a cluster of sprouting crocuses to be very interesting.

            Tino emerged from the back room, broom in hand. Following him was Berwald, the man’s face as unreadable as ever.

            "You have a candidate for us,” he rumbled at Mikkel, ignoring Jax entirely. Jax’s smile pulled at his cheeks like a child pulls at tug-of-war.

            “Oh! Yeah, Lukas wants a job,” Mikkel said distractedly, face marred with sheer admiration for the obvious elephant in the room. “Berwald, do you see who’s here? Hunter Jax! He could go patrolling with us, right? He could show us some moves; like from that time he killed the dragon. Do you remember that, Jax? Could you tell us all about it?”

            Berwald gestured for Lukas to follow him into the back room. Simply moving that distance away from Jax was as though an itch had been scratched, and Lukas allowed his shoulders to sag in relief.

            The back room, although messy, was just as cheerfully decorated as the front of the store. Flowers dotted every spare nook and cranny, and the room was divided into seemingly two sections. One side had piles of orders and paper stacked to the point of tilting, with bouquets and ribbons scattered about in disarray. The side to Lukas’ left was neat, with only wood shavings and one or two half-finished projects marring the otherwise clean floor. The scent of sawdust—spruce and pine wood, it appeared—was almost comforting. On the messier side lay a small, plush dog bed on the floor, with a slightly translucent fox curled up into a tight ball in its center. This sight alone was enough to make Lukas question the decision to come here—the familiar could give him away, could most certainly smell the qualities of his magic.

            However, it simply twitched one ear as Berwald and Lukas walked past. The memory of Mikkel’s avocet flashed in Lukas’ brain, and it brought to question why that one didn’t attack either. Illusions would never work on a familiar.

            “You work at the Juniper Glade,” Berwald interrupted his thoughts, turning to face Lukas with an unreadable expression. He was a towering mass, clearly an unyielding figure in the face of adversity—at least, that is what Lukas supposed from the tense air surrounding Berwald. Despite this, the intimidation was more accidental, rather than a constantly oozing advantage as it was with Jax. Lukas nodded, meeting Berwald’s green gaze steadily.

            “Yes.”

            “Why do you need this job?” the tone, surprisingly enough, wasn’t interrogative, as Lukas may have expected.

            “I used to work at the call center. My boss is… incapacitated.”

            Berwald’s eyebrows raised with understanding—he must have read the article in the paper. “I see.” He paused, and looked Lukas up and down appraisingly. “Mikkel likes you.”

            Lukas couldn’t help but let a small, wry smile cross his face. “Mikkel likes everyone.”

            Berwald shrugged. “He speaks about you often. Interesting to put a face to a name.”

            “I suppose so.”

            A few moments of silence passed. Lukas noted the way that Berwald shifted his feet uncomfortably in place, and his gaze kept flicking to the unfinished carpentry on the table across the room. Lukas would have twitched his tail in amusement if he was in his true form—it seemed that they were two of a kind in terms of solitude.

            “Come in tomorrow at six in the morning. I need help sanding a piece,” Berwald rumbled.

            Lukas blinked in astonishment. “You hardly know me. You didn’t even look at my—“

            “Mikkel likes you well enough. I trust him. He and Tino aren’t very adept at helping me,” Berwald’s deep voice was embroidered with amused threads.

            Lukas nodded curtly in return. “Okay. Tomorrow it is.” He was pretty certain that he didn’t have to get to the restaurant at six in the morning— _pretty sure._ He would have to check his schedule at home.

            Almost tasting Berwald’s increasing discomfort, Lukas turned to leave. Upon opening the door, he was met with an enthusiastic Mikkel practically shouting at Jax in his glee. The cloud of unease condensate in Lukas’ stomach once again, and he swallowed the rumble of a growl forming in the back of his throat. He inched his way toward the door of the flower shop, eyes fixated on both Mikkel and Jax.

            Jax’s eyes, to Lukas’ horror, met his once again with a cold steadiness. His continuous smile was as clean as the winter air, and just as frigid if not more so. It left Lukas looking over his shoulder all the way home.

 

* * *

 

 

            “You are coming straight home after school from now on.”

            Emil’s gaze was incredulous; his ears folding back as he stared up at Lukas with disbelief. “Wait, what?”

            Lukas narrowed his eyes, recalling the cold, bitter scent of the Hunter walking next to Mikkel. “You heard me perfectly well.” He put his dirty plate into the sink, and wrinkled his nose at the burned food still stuck to the pan. That kind of sauce was a mistake, particularly when he was stress-cooking.

            “Okay, yeah, I did. I’m just trying to express how utterly unreasonable and stupid you’re being again.” The telltale start of a growl was beginning in Emil’s throat. Lukas grit his teeth and whipped around, his own voice ready to become guttural and aggressive.

            “It’s not ‘stupid’, and I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask you to come home right after school. It’s not like you have anything to do.”

            Emil sputtered, and shoved his chair back away from the old kitchen table. Lukas was not looking forward to examining _those_ marks on the floor later. “You know I have, you know, friends, right? Plans? _A life?_ ”

            Lukas’ mouth twisted into a frown as he stared at his stupid, impulsive brother. “You don’t have friends. You have people who think you’re a passable human being. _That looks human._ ” Emil had never been this difficult about curfew before—Lukas briefly toyed with the idea that something had changed about this. However, the very notion of such a thing was ridiculous.

            The fur on Emil’s neck rose, and he let out his displeasure from the back of his throat. Lukas’ eyes widened slightly in shock. His brother was growling—growling at _him._ Unbidden, Lukas’ claws unsheathed and he found himself digging them into the counter.

            “You don’t know anything about them, Lukas!” Emil snarled, baring his fangs at Lukas. Lukas’ ears folded back as he attempted to control his own bodily signals. He couldn’t let this devolve into a fight.

            “I know plenty about humans, Emil. I’ve seen more than you have. Further, it’s just not safe for you to be out right now.”

            “You’ve seen more…? Lukas, you’re a fucking hermit.” Emil turned tail, and stalked out of the room. It wasn’t until Lukas heard the stairs leading to the second story that he snapped out of his shock.

            “Emil! Come back here right now!” Lukas yowled up the stairs. “Come talk to me!” Lukas jerked his hand away from the railing when he saw that his claws were gouging out paths of anger into the wood. He cursed under his breath, too, when the now frozen carpet crunched underneath of his back paws.

            Emil didn’t answer, having retreated into the haven behind his bedroom door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW IT'S BEEN A FEW WEEKS I'M SO SORRY!!!
> 
> Life has been extremely busy for me, especially with AP exams and the SATs coming up. I've actually had most of this typed for awhile, I just,,, didn't like enough to post it. I like it a bit more now, though, after some revision. Isn't that always the case??
> 
> I know this chapter is boring, but the next will definitely have more,, physical action. Lukas simply isn't as much of a go-getter as Mikkel, I suppose, haha!! 
> 
> Thank you soooo so so much for all of the comments oh my goodness, I'm,,, so flattered by everyone being so kind <3 It's a blessing to see all of that feedback in my inbox, and it helps with my motivation immensely.
> 
> Characters:  
> Mikkel Densen: Denmark. Buff demon hunter with an axe.  
> Nova: Glowy avocet familiar. Devoted to Mikkel with a furious passion.  
> Tino Väinämöinen: Finland. Flower shop owner with a gun.  
> Hanatamago: Glowy fox familiar. A sweetheart. Hates everything that Tino hates.  
> Berwald Oxenstierna: Sweden. Carpenter, flower shop owner, demon hunter.  
> Lukas Bondevik: Norway. Demon with paws and paranoia. Has magic.  
> Emil Bondevik: Iceland. Demon who is Lukas' brother. Has magic. Is a teenager.   
> Hunter Jax: Famous, big buff hunter dude. No one knows that much about him.
> 
> Note: Jax is very fun to write.


	9. Addled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon going into the woods on a patrol, Mikkel encounters his childhood idol instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood, violence

            “Dad?” Mikkel called down the empty halls. Nova trilled, and her high-pitched call echoed through the narrow, empty spaces. That was usually enough to get Mikkel’s father out of the study, or his bedroom, or whatever room he sometimes locked himself in without telling Mikkel.

            Nova’s talons tightened their grip on Mikkel’s shoulder, and he frowned as the floorboards creaked underneath of his weight.

            The front door was wide open.

 

* * *

 

            Mikkel’s blood burned as he traveled through the woods. His stride was confident, and the grip on his axe was sure as he checked the ground, the foliage, and the sky for signs of demonic activity. Now, more than ever, he was determined to make a kill tonight—to track a monster and finally prove himself to be the hero that he played at being as a child.

            Nova flew overhead, scanning the ground as she usually did. Mikkel, however, could not sense any of the usual joy that accompanied their forays into the woods. Instead, he felt a deep, gut wrenching feeling—something that Mikkel was almost certain was nervousness. _She must want to impress Hunter Jax, too,_ Mikkel assumed, and smiled. Nova always reflected his own emotions, and this time certainly was no exception.

            Most of Mikkel’s thoughts, however, were occupied by a determination—a firm hope that he would be able to make a kill that would make Hunter Jax proud. Mikkel remembered clearly the photos of Jax on his bedroom wall—a wide, heroic smile, and the ever-watchful gaze of Jax’s snow leopard, Alina always beside him. Now that the concept, the photo was a three dimensional being, Mikkel felt in his gut that Jax should know that Mikkel had skills in his own right.

            The tiniest of hopes was had ignited a short while ago—that perhaps, if Jax liked Mikkel enough, if Mikkel proved himself to be a good enough asset, Mikkel could be a permanent companion on Jax’s travels—a student of a sort. Through the reckless hope, Mikkel was fully aware that many of the well-known Hunters were solitary creatures, needing only the company of their familiars as they trekked through the wilds of the Continent. Despite this, the same impulsive voice that motivated Mikkel to talk to Lukas needled him to keep mulling over the possibility. Mikkel’s stomach churned as he strode through the woods. Nothing he could do would possibly compare to Jax’s past escapades—dragons never took up residence in the North.

            The murder of that woman in town—Lukas’ boss, apparently—however tragic and bloody, presented a huge opportunity. It presented a target to hunt and kill. The demon’s blood spilled on the forest floor had to be enough to impress the older Hunter.

            Or, at least, Mikkel hoped. He sucked a breath from between his teeth as he picked his way over the frozen leaves and roods. The air was scaldingly cold, and despite his love for cold weather and the thick clothing that he wore, Mikkel shivered. The night was almost silent, the scuttling of nocturnal creatures completely and eerily absent from the vicinity. It seemed as though the crunching of frosted leaves under Mikkel’s boots reverberated through the dead and empty earth.

            The silence left plentiful space for recollection. As Mikkel glanced up at the moon, he recalled the shining eyes of those two teenagers on his first night of Hunting in Norporton. Guilt and disgust were spiders, crawling along his skin and making him tense. If he ever saw the silver-haired demon again, he swore to himself that he would skin the thing himself, carving it open like their kind deserved. That thing was probably what had killed the woman a few days ago—no, it had to be. The notion of more than one demon infesting this town, however plausible, felt too much to process at the moment.

            Briefly, Mikkel wondered if he ought to confess his transgression of inaction to Jax—but he immediately dismissed the thought. If he wanted to impress the older Hunter, Mikkel felt a bright certainty that sparing a disgusting union of man and beast would do exactly the opposite.

            A flickering of orange light a short distance away immediately interrupted his pondering. Mikkel’s body stiffened, grip tightening around his axe instinctively. He mentally called Nova to his shoulder, and, light-footed, crept his way toward the cluster of trees, where some sort of fire was being tended to. Perhaps it was those teenagers again, being even more reckless than the first time Mikkel encountered them. Perhaps, even, it was the demon that murdered the woman—destroying another victim’s helpless body through fire. Mikkel unconsciously bared his teeth, and quickened his pace toward the trees. The air felt hot around his skin as he summoned up his own inner fury at transgressions past, and Mikkel burst suddenly through the foliage, axe aloft—

            --and was met with the amused face of Hunter Jax, sitting on a log next to the fire. Nova flapped her wings in order to regain her balance, and Mikkel nearly toppled over himself in his effort to keep from slashing his idol in the head.

            “Hello,” Jax said pleasantly, his face ever charming. “I thought I would see you tonight, Mikkel.”

            Mikkel felt his face heat as he stuck his axe into the frozen ground. “Um. Hello, Hunter Jax,” he mumbled, Nova’s feather’s rising against his neck as he stood.

            Jax was as poised as he always was, back straight as he warmed his hands. The flickering orange light perfectly shadowed every plane of his face, and his teeth were even whiter than usual as he smiled. Jax gestured for Mikkel to sit beside him, and Mikkel complied, his shoulders slumped in deference. Nova alighted from Mikkel’s shoulder and perched on the handle of his axe a fair distance away. Mikkel frowned at her questioningly, but when his mental summons didn’t work as they usually did he simply shrugged and turned to Jax.

         “I've wanted to speak to you privately, Hunter to Hunter,” Jax lowered his voice to just above a honeyed whisper. “I need someone to understand this. Berwald and Tino may have the titles and the qualifications, but Tino lived a coddled life, and Berwald is only half of what a Hunter should be.” He put a finger to Mikkel’s lips, where a question was about to form. “We know pain, more than any other person here. We know what destruction demons could truly bring upon the innocents of this world.

            “I was a child when I was blessed with Alina for my familiar. The demons in the area could sense it, and disliked that I had received such power that they could never dream of.” Jax’s eyes seemed to harden. “They murdered my family in cold blood, and would have killed me as well if Alina hadn’t gored the whole lot of them.”

            The air was frigid. Mikkel’s breaths became shallow, as he began to remember—and relate.

            “You understand, do you not, Mikkel? You’ve experienced the same things as I.” Jax’s hand was on Mikkel’s back. "I can tell from your mannerisms, from the look in your eyes. You are friendly and personable, yes, but there is a killer to be made inside of you."

            Unbidden, those old, torturous memories re-emerged from the depths of Mikkel’s unconscious.

 

* * *

 

            It was bright outside, just bordering on the cusp of sunset. The clearing was drowned in crimson-orange light, the shadows long and deep. Mikkel cautiously exited the house, and Nova shifted nervously on his shoulder. She pulled at a lock of his hair, and Mikkel simply waved her head away from him—the pain was a distraction that he didn’t need. He scanned the clearing, searching for his father. The worried old man _never_ left the house without expressing it to Mikkel directly, complete with warnings not to leave himself without his dad’s watchful eye.

            Of course, Mikkel never listened—but that didn’t make the lack of such worries any less unsettling. His father’s breathing, coughing, scolding—it was always there, a presence that completed Mikkel’s small, boring life.

            Routine was jeopardized, and Mikkel wasn’t certain if he liked it.

            He peered around the corner of the house, and Nova’s feathers grew ever more ruffled as he began to smell a rank, stale, animal-like stench emanating from the rickety shed at the edge of the clearing.

            The door was open.

* * *

 

            Mikkel swallowed, and nodded at Jax in understanding. With the terror dredged from the lake of his memory, it wasn’t difficult to feel the huge chasm, one he was already aware of, between him and Berwald, Tino, and…

            And Lukas. There was a keen tugging in his chest at the name, and the conflicting emotions whirling in his head made Mikkel dizzy in the face of his childhood idol.

            “I don’t understand,” Mikkel mumbled. “Why are we talking about this?” He pressed his lips together, and tried desperately to keep his hands from shaking as violently as they did on that day. Shame crawled through his stomach.

            “Sometimes,” Jax said. “We need to be reminded of the things that pain us.” His face was soft with understanding. “We have to harden in the face of this world, allow our hearts to be untouched. Only then is a truly great Hunter made.”

 

* * *

 

 

            He went into the shed. He froze, eyes wide with horror at the sight of a figure crouching in the dark corner.

            The setting sun’s light was a wash of warm, bloody light. The figure slowly turned, revealing horns, reptilian eyes, clawed hands, hooves for feet. The stinger on the end of its tail jerked with a wet, squishing sound out of the still body of Mikkel’s father.

            The figure bared its fangs, dripping with syrupy saliva. Dripping with deep red, almost black blood.

            Mikkel heard screaming. Brought to awareness by the sound, he realized that it was clawing its way out of his throat, his chest, his stomach. Nova screamed right alongside him, flapping her wings in panic. His legs began to shake. The air was heavy with that animal-like scent, and the taste of his father’s blood.

 

* * *

 

            “Our lot as Hunters is difficult,” Jax sighed, hands resting on Mikkel’s shoulders. “But those like us have it even harder.”

            Mikkel heard Nova’s soft chirping in the distance, but his head felt fuzzy, his head felt numb, his head felt heavy. His breathing grew shallow.

Mikkel felt a distinct nausea begin to form deep in his stomach. Sound was echoing all around him.

            Nova’s presence in his head—it pleaded with him. Begged him. Mikkel couldn’t understand it through the hot tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes.

 

* * *

   


            Mikkel, to his shame, began to cry. Wails ripped through his very being as he stumbled backward, desperately trying to escape from the creature now rising to pursue him as well.

            “Oh no no no no no, Dad please I can’t come back please,” the words buzzed off of his tongue, aimless and desperate like the flies surely gathering near his father’s corpse. He began to run, only to trip and skin his knees on the knotted tree roots threaded throughout the clearing. “No no no,” he whimpered, crawling on hand and knee toward the house.

            The demon’s hot breath was on his neck, when suddenly it bellowed in pain.

            Nova screeched, and attacked the demon’s eyes with the same fervor with which she defended Mikkel all those years ago. Shaking, Mikkel got to his feet.

            Across the clearing, the metal of his father’s old hatchet caught the setting sun in a flash. Nearly blinded, Mikkel limped his way over to the blade as Nova was knocked to the ground by the demon’s blood-caked claws.

 

* * *

  


            “I can help you through this, Mik.” The nickname brought to mind the old, comforting voice of his father—something that was seemingly long gone, disintegrated by the storms of time. Mikkel winced, now, and tried to scoot away. He felt a distinct discomfort, being vulnerable like this. When he opened his mouth to give a choked protest, Jax simply shook his head, hands pressed on Mikkel’s shoulders like ever-heavy stones. “You can use your grief to destroy those creatures that dare to infest our cities, who dare to poison the bonds between people.” Jax’s breath was hot on Mikkel’s ear. “Those who would take on the guise of the innocent.”

            Mikkel stiffened.

            “Will you allow me to open your eyes, Mikkel?”

 

* * *

            

            Mikkel swung the hatchet down on the demon. He swung it again, and again, and again-- until the sun was exuding its last, blood-orange rays over the horizon and giving way to velvety darkness. Exhausted, Mikkel sunk down to his knees, the hatchet dropping on the ground beside him-- a dead weight. Nova's weight returned to Mikkel's shoulder-- but he could hardly notice it, now.  


            Blood was everywhere. Mikkel’s hands were stained with it. He fell onto his knees, the liquid feeling like syrup on his hands. It clung to him, but it wasn’t sweet like the pancakes his father made.

            Used to make. His father was dead, now.

            Mikkel began to cry once again.

 

* * *

 

            Mikkel nodded slightly.

            Jax stood up, and held out a gloved hand for Mikkel to take. “First things first,” Jax’s voice was authoritative, almost as though nothing had happened, almost as though Mikkel had imagined the conversation that had taken place. The momentum of the tone shift made Mikkel’s head spin. “I want to see your technique with the axe.” Jax pried it out of the frozen ground, driving Nova to seek a perch in the trees.

            Mikkel took his axe, and widened his stance defensively. He shoved his past pain aside, and returned his focus to Jax’s instruction.

            Nova whistled in a defeated way as she watched Mikkel train with Hunter Jax.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you all for being patient with me. I promise I've been writing, and I've had this on hold for a little bit. I'm still not 100% satisfied with this chapter, but at a certain point I've got to remember that if I don't get it out now I never will ahah! Hopefully this is enjoyable, despite it being a diversion from my usual format for chapters.
> 
> WOW I've been through something of a mental health... thing these last few weeks. Fortunately, though, school is winding down-- and so is my stress. Once the middle of June hits I'll hopefully back to regular updates, and, even better, new stories and *original work* on a different site~!
> 
> But either way! I hope you all have a lovely day/night!


	10. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax and Mikkel have a conversation.

Slash. Dodge. Hop. Mikkel blocked blow after blow, blood burning, arms aching as he caught Jax’s blade with the handle of his axe again and again. His eyes flicked wildly from side to side as Jax flanked him, attempting to take advantage of every opening that Mikkel seemed to have. He lashed out with the butt of his axe, knocking Jax’s sword with a clatter to the forest floor.

Frigid air burned his throat as his chest heaved. Exhausted breaths hung heavy in the air by his face, and Mikkel wiped the sweat beading on his forehead and neck. His arms trembled slightly from holding his battleaxe for so long. He shoved it into the frozen dirt below, and leaned on it for a break.

    Jax nodded at Mikkel approvingly, his normally cold eyes growing slightly warm as he spoke. “Even without your familiar as a crutch, you are able to perceive my blows. Well done, Mik. That’ll be useful when we hunt for that nest of demons in the days to come.”

    Mikkel nodded, glowing from the praise, ignoring the way that the nickname stabbed a wound he couldn’t describe. He managed to catch his breath enough to speak. “Thank you, Hunter Jax,” he said revenently, face splitting into a tired grin. Images swam through his vision, not quite acknowledged by his tired brain.

    Jax walked over to the logs acting as chairs next to the firepit in the center of the clearing. He sat, and motioned for Mikkel to follow suit.

    “Your progress has been exponential in the past few weeks,” Jax praised. “I almost can’t tell that you weren’t trained as a child. A demon certainly wouldn’t know the difference, once you cleaved its stomach open.”

    Mikkel sat on the log next to Jax, leaving his axe sticking out of the ground a few units away. He glanced at the inside of his wrist, where Nova’s mark normally twitched. Tonight, however, she was still and silent, unresponsive to Mikkel’s mental inquiry to her if she would like to come out for awhile. He huffed in slight irritation when he continued to hit a mental block upon trying to communicate with her.

    Jax watched this, slight amusement in his eyes. “Your bird being ornery?”

    “Yeah. She’s normally not like this. I don’t get why she’s being so…” Mikkel made a half-hearted gesture in the air.

    “Familiars feed off of your energy. Most likely, she’s simply unhappy that she cannot share in these achievements of yours,” Jax said wisely, hand now heavy on Mikkel’s shoulder. “They are jealous creatures, familiars. An asset, yes, but also they key to your downfall.”

    “How so?” Mikkel tilted his head, pushing away the indignant pang from Nova’s end. “I thought familiars and Hunters are supposed to work together, right?”

    “Well, of course, naturally. But in the end, they are only animals. They can be no better than demons, twisting your perceptions and warping your mind to their own ends.  _ We _ are human, capable of empathy and kindness,” Jax explained, smiling softly. “That’s why I haven’t summoned Alina for many, many years. I have grown from her lies.”

    Mikkel stared at Nova’s mark. “Nova hasn’t steered me wrong before.” His skin twinged slightly.

    “You will understand what I mean one day, Mik,” Jax patted his shoulder. Mikkel held back a wince at the nickname. “For now…” he stood. “I hide. You track me. If you cannot locate me by dawn, I win. If you can, you win. Count to sixty.” Jax saluted him playfully, smile impeccable as always.

    Mikkel’s body demanded that Mikkel take a nap, go to sleep or  _ something _ . His stomach complained that he hadn’t eaten, and his legs begged of him that could he  _ please _ for the love of Providence just sit for a few more minutes, just rest for awhile. 

    Mikkel shook his head and stood up, a jolt of pain shooting from his feet and up his legs. He walked over to a tree and leaned against it, then beginning to count. 

_     One. _ His eyelids dragged downward, weighted by a lack of sleep.  _ Two. _ His back ached, longing for the firm support of his bed frame back at Berwald’s and Tino’s.  _ Three.  _ He shivered, the chilly wind shooting straight through the thin jacket that Jax allowed him to wear.  _ Four... _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm sorry about the desert without updates, I've been a little bit distracted in these past couple of months!
> 
> I should be getting back into the game, now. This chapter is a bit shorter, because I'm getting back into writing these characters' voices! Also, important plot stuff ;0 You know how it is~
> 
> I'm going to try to update more regularly for the time being, or at least until I'm able to finish the story! There is an ending in mind and I am excited for it. I hope that you all like the chapter, even as simple as it is.
> 
> If you like my writing, you should follow my tumblr, too! I post art there and drabbles most days. My tumblr user is rhythmickorbit, like it is here!


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